Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story
by Lyle Brown
Summary: (Complete) Willow/Tara fic about what happens when old Saint Nick decides to drop by on Christmas Eve.
1. Arrival

  
Disclaimer- Joss and the WB own the rights, and seeing as how I'm no good in fights, I'll let them keep their stupid laws, but that won't feed my greedy paws. So I'll write a story, yeah that's it; I'll sit and make a fanfic for a bit, but Joss need not worry nor frit, this story is, per usual, bottom-of-the-barrel-shit.

Summary- On Christmas Eve, what's a Jewish girl to do? Why, kick some big fat Santa ass, that's what! And when we're talkin' about a Lesbain Jew with super-Wiccan strength, Santa had better watch out. But can Willow and Tara really save Sunnydale and defeat Santa without losing the lives of their friends or each other? You'll find out soon enough.

Spoilers- Uh, kinda hard to say. Wait, yes, there's gonna be some major season 5 spoilage all throughout, so if you're not living in America and want to wait until Season 5 airs to know anything about it, stop right there. Uh, here. In this general area. You get the point.

Rating- Another hard R for my second full-length fic to go on FF.Net. Sex scenes that practically stand outside of the gate seperating them from the NC-17 area, demanding entrance; a pleasently plump amount of gore later on, spritzled here and there with profanites and layered in a sauce of strong violence that tantalizes the taste buds. All in all, it's a fic I like to deem, roasted to perfection! Enjoy!

Feedback- You know I want it baby. Give it to me, and I'll, w-w-w-why I'll lasso the moon for ya! That's right, I-I-I-I'll lasso the moon!- Heh-heh, guess what I was watching on Thanksgiving...

_Author's Notes-_ For all my bad sporty humor here in the opening, this is a horror story in case you didn't see the category I set it to. It's not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it. My point is, if you're a fluffy bunny person, the only fluffy bunnies this fic has will be tortured, skinned alive and disembowled while they're still very much alive, blood streaming into large pools beneath them. If that last sentence offended you, you won't like the direction this fic goes in. Well, actually I'm not planning on killing any animals. In any case, I'm no snuff writer, but I do enjoy the darker side of stories. Look at me, talking about liking the darker sides of things while I listen to Deliver Me. It's a very upbeat Sarah Brightman song for those who don't know. Damn...I'm tired.   


Santa and the Jew:   
A BtVS Christmas Story

by Donald P. Pike   


Prologue

**1. Santa's Coming**

Days gone by and days to go,   
Windy state of an afterglow,   
Californian town on the edge,   
It's savior watches from a ledge.

But on this special Christmas Eve,   
A new evil waits to relieve,   
Sunnydale of its slayer girl,   
Shining light to a dimming pearl.

Kris Kringle is the silent voice,   
He shows the girl she has no choice,   
The town is his to oversee,   
Save for one inconsistency.

His one young rival sleeps in bed,   
Her eyes green, with a mane of red,   
She's slept the day away in dread,   
Inside a dream her love was dead.

The sky turns dark without a dawn,   
Diablo craves the sacred pawn,   
And blood flows up beneath the ground,   
Masking out that horrid sound.

So boys and girls, gather ye' round,   
For a chilling tale of silence found,   
Cause when old Kringle comes for you,   
You may need know of what to do…

**2. Distribution**

They landed softly on the ground making imprints in the snow. They wouldn't stay there long, for they each had destinations of their own. Gifts for one, gifts for all. Running one clawed finger through his thick beard, Kristopher Kringle contemplated his next move. The Slayer wasn't patrolling on this night of nights, he could feel that. She had been earlier, but now rest and slumber had taken over her consciousness and dimmed her senses.

Perhaps he would greet her after his job was finished, let her see for herself what a waste of space she was. No, his employer had said to make sure she didn't get in the way, and he was not about to argue with **that** man. Growling softly in his throat, Kris considered how he'd take her out. He really wanted to crush her mentally and spiritually before physically, but the boss had said to keep her out of the way, and there was no way he could do that without knowing at all times where she was unless... Aha! There was one way.

Laughing merrily, he continued to fly through the night sky on his sled, dropping the presents that would home their way into the houses of their appropriate destinations. Technology today amazed him (as did advancing spells and enchantments, all three of which were used to perform the duty the wrapped death-boxes and the contents they held within were accomplishing now) but Kringle had to admit he missed the old chimney raids, where occasionally he'd come upon a startled father or, even better a pretty young wife or little girl dressed only in their nightgowns. Still, this way there was no chance of burning his behind if some inconsiderate person left the fire going.

**3. A Late-night Snack**

Buffy moaned in her sleep, rolling over and dreaming that Riley was there with her. In reality he was out doing some serious last-minute shopping for the both of them, but he'd be back soon enough. Christmas was a fairly big deal on campus, and Buffy was planning on crashing three parties already. Not to mention one at home.

In her dream, Riley was doing some of the most wonderful things. He'd just gone from licking whip cream off of her stomach to pouring chocolate syrup on her breasts and doing the same. It wasn't as good as the real thing, but she was in a reality where she couldn't tell the difference. Now he was sucking on her toes. She giggled, looking down as he swallowed her foot whole. The feeling was wonderful, as though he was slipping a warm, rubbery coat over her. Then her other foot disappeared into his gaping maw and he covered her calves, nearing her pleasure point. Her nude body writhed in ecstasy as his large, bloated tongue wandered over and in between her thighs. She sighed and thrusted her pelvis upwards, trying to meet him.

He growled slightly at this, shaking his head and her body, almost half of which was inside his mouth now. The cute red hat on his head jingled when he shook as a bell adorned the top. This finally stopped her. Riley would never wear a red Santa hat, not even in a sexual manner. He'd always hated the way he looked in one. Her brow furrowed as he swallowed her waist and she realized she was no longer dreaming. Buffy screamed.   
  
  


Chapter 1

**4. Surprise!**

Willow lazily opened her eyes, wondering what had brought her out of sleep. Her arm was wrapped around Tara's naked figure, her body spooning her. She sighed and unraveled herself from Tara, rolling off the bed and reaching for her pajamas. As she slipped on a night-shirt a gust of very cold wind blew through the open window, causing her to shiver and glance over at it. Her eyes widened.

It was snowing again. When had it happened before, two years ago? She hated herself for wondering why it couldn't snow on any Jewish holidays, but the important thing was that it _was_ snowing. She leaned over to Tara and placed her hand on the girl's bare shoulder, shaking it. Tara groaned and turned, her hand searching for Willow. The red-head grinned and leaned over whispering in her ear, "Wake up..."

Tara opened her eyes, looking up at her. "Huh?"

"Do you remember when I told you the tale of it snowing in that small town in California?"

She nodded, grinning lazily back as she ran a finger along Willow's shoulder. "I said you were just trying to get me in the sack with a happy bedtime type story."

Willow giggled softly, taking Tara's finger and kissing it. "Well, I was. But that doesn't necessarily mean I wasn't telling the truth."

Tara frowned, not following her. She blinked a few times, finally waking up fully. On Willow's look she glanced towards the open window and gasped. She hopped off the bed and ran to the window with Willow following close behind. "Goddess..."

The redhead smiled, wrapping her arms around Tara. The girl leaned into the embrace, her seemingly bedazzled eyes roaming the landscape outside. "...It's amazing," she whispered, awe easily read in her voice. Willow kissed her ear before whispering into it it.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

Tara nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the snow.

"Good, then it might a wise idea if you got the whole clothes thing happening."

She realized that Willow was referring to her still being in the nude, so she hurriedly got dressed with Willow's help, giggling in excitement throughout.

**5. Quit While You're Ahead**

Tara and Willow opened the door to Tara's dorm and creeped out, Willow closing the door behind them. Somewhere nearby "The Acoustix" sung _You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch_ on a radio. Willow never had been a fan of the oldies, but she at least had fond memories of not being able to watch _The Grinch that Stole Christmas _and yet still hearing all the songs from it and other Christmas classics as Xander would have them on all the time.

The dorm rooms past in a daze as the two young women moved quickly for the stairs, but it was as they reached them that an odd noise caused them to come to a halt. Waiting, Willow could hear nothing save the wind moaning outside and their own steady breathing. The song of The Grinch had oddly faded away. She was about to ask Tara if she'd even heard anything when the noise came again. It was a small squeak of a sound, like a whimper or a door in need of oil closing quickly.

"Do you hear that?" Tara asked in a whisper. She nodded in response, inching towards the West Hall where the sound seemed to be coming from. And for the third time it sounded, Willow taking Tara's hand gently in her own and pulling her down the hallway. It took the noise two more times going for her to realize where it was coming from. Still holding onto Tara she ran down the hallway, closer and closer to the source. After a few more steps Tara caught on, and soon they were running side-by-side.

Slamming through the door to the dorm room she often shared with Buffy (when Tara was out or the like) Willow couldn't see anything for a moment. Then her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she frowned.

Tara spoke first. "There's nothing here."

"I know...b-but we heard _something_, right?"

She nodded, her grip tightening on Willow's hand. "There was definitely a something."

Willow shook her head in confusion, still speaking hushed tones. "I don't like this, I talked to her before going to bed. She said Riley was going out and that she'd be crashing early."

"Well may-maybe she saw the snow too and went out..."

"She would've told us about it."

Tara couldn't help but smile, if tensely so. "We weren't exactly running to tell her..."

Willow breathed a sigh, turning around to face her. She kissed Tara's lips lightly and touched foreheads with her. "Damn your logic...you wanna go now?"

Tara smiled a bit. "Actually, I kind of have to use the ladies' room. Wait on me?"

Willow kissed her again. "Wouldn't leave you for the world."

"'Kay. I-I'll be right back."

Begrudgingly Willow let her slip from the embrace and travel a couple yards away to the nearby bathroom. Once she was gone, the redhead's smile faltered a bit, then disappeared completely. An odd tug at her senses forced Willow to once again examine the darkened room. There didn't seem to be much more to it. Ruffled sheets, clothes here and there, the occasional stake. Sure, Buffy had become a little careless, but it was nothing to spin over. No signs of foul play.

"**_mmmpheekgrrl-"_**

The noise once again assaulted her ears, and this time Willow knew it for what it was. It was a muffled cry. She dropped to her knees, checking underneath both beds, lifting the comforters from the mattresses and practically ripping them off in the process. Nothing. The only other place it could be coming from was-

Upon opening the closet door Willow saw nothing out of the ordinary inside. Just clothes and darkness. When Willow looked up though, she wished she hadn't opened the door at all. A book spells sat on top of some shoe boxes, with a small tag dangling from it reading-

To the greatest friend I've ever had. Love Always,   
Buffy

She might've been able to at least half-convince herself that it was for Giles had the small figure of a Minorah not graced the top of the tag. Willow had just stumbled upon the late Hanukah present Buffy had been telling her about. She sighed and inwardly reprimanded herself, and was about to close the door when one of Buffy's wigs caught her by surprise. Actually, it appeared to be Buffy's only wig, stuck in between two large coats.

_Why would Buffy own a wig?_

Willow slowly put her hands between the coats and began seperating them. She screamed before she'd even uncovered the entire head. It was Buffy, watching her intently from in between the coats, silently screaming her name. Willow backed away, bringing her hands up to her mouth as she felt the fear swell inside of her. The coats parted themselves the rest of the way and out stepped the most hideous thing she'd ever seen.

It was very, very fat. It's most prominent feature was it's huge girth, it's big stomach sticking out like a puffed-up blowfish. The body was encased in a dirty, muck-filled red coat and equally disgusting red trousers. The outfit was being supported by a thick, wide black belt and the ends of the trousers disappeared Nazi style into big black slicker-boots. But what captivated her attention the most in a sick fascination was the fact that Buffy's head was sticking out of this monster's mouth, grotesque and muffled cries identifying themselves as the sounds that had drawn Willow to this point.

Still backing away, Willow tripped on her own feet and fell backwards onto her bottom. Before she could get up the nerve to rise again, she watched in horror as the rest of Buffy vanished within the mouth of the demon, it's face finally revealed to her. He grinned down at Willow and she knew who he must be. His beard wasn't white as many would think. It was actually a smoggy gray, with the skin on his face matching it's color. He looked for all accounts and purposes like the walking dead, and his sharp, rotted black teeth did nothing to sway her otherwise. Santa Claus stood before her, Willow's best friend inside of him and his clawed hands reaching out for her.

She screamed again, this time in rage, startling him as she jumped up and kicked him in his gut. After the shock wore off of someone actually fighting back, he laughed. That was, until she grabbed his beard and pulled as hard as she could. He roared in pain as dead flesh was pulled from his jawbone, and though Willow found it disgusting she held onto it, beckoning him to strike back as she began whispering a spell on her lips. He gave her no time to finish it however as he jumped upwards. A red-brick hole opened above him and he flew up and fit himself through it, though how exactly this was accomplished Willow would never know. As she heard Tara's voice she fainted dead away.

**6. Tracking Santa**

Willow blinked as she came back to her senses, hoping that what had just happened had been a dream. Her hopes were crushed out though when she saw the snow outside the window and Tara above her stroking her hair lightly. Tara saw that she was awake and couldn't help but smile.

"Hi..."

"Tara, did you see anything?"

She frowned. "I heard you scream. When I found you you'd fainted."

"That was it?"

"Yes...what did you see?"

Without answering Willow shot up out of Tara's embrace, startling the girl. Being back in her own room, she ran to the closet and threw open the door, then began aggressively searching for something.

"Willow, what is it? What happened?"

"I need a map!"

"W-what?"

"A map, a map of Sunnydale!" She yelled, "Go down to the front building and get me a map!"

When she realized the girl wasn't moving Willow glanced up. "Tara please, now!"

Tara nodded, looking very much afraid and hurt, running out of sight. Willow sighed. She knew she shouldn't have snapped at her, but she didn't know how much time was left. After rummaging around a bit more Willow found what she was searching for. A particular book of spells that dealt mainly in investigation. Willow snatched the book from under a pile of texts and ran out of the room.

*

Once back inside Buffy's room it took very little time for Willow to spot the chunk of beard and flesh she'd ripped from the red man's chin. Now all she needed was a candle, some powder and Tara, hopefully with map in hand.

*

Willow leaned down on her knees, unfolding and spreading out the map across the floor of Tara's bedroom, right by her door. Tara herself stood back, watching Willow and waiting silently. The witch pulled out a match, positioning it above the wick of the candle by her knees, signaling for Tara to cut the lights. As soon as darkness reigned she let the burning wood touch the wick, setting the heat and flames to it before shaking out the life of the match.

Taking the flesh piece from beside her, she began to slowly hum and, her eyes constantly shifting between the book and the candle, chant.

"Osh tu wa', custa hemn der koff-" _I must find the desolate being_>

Willow carefully reached into the small plastic baggy of baking soda (always handy to keep around) and took a small handful.

"Osh na' ca' benka blenka, estu bound-" _He resides within these boundaries_>

Breathing out in concentration, she began to pour the white powder onto the edges of the map, praying the he hadn't yet left Sunnydale as she lined the entire town with the spell.

"Stekra" _hiding_>

At this Willow clicked her tongue and placed the piece of hair and skin directly in the center of the map, which she'd had Tara circle for her.

"Repra fer Osh na' ca' deh Osh tu wa'-" _Reveal him to me_>

Immediately the candle wooshed up in a cloud of flame before disappearing, sucking out all of the air from the girl's lungs. But as she coughed the map began to glow red with a vivid illuminosity, detailing a very small dot. She smiled as she struggled to catch her breath.

Tara kneeled down beside her, placing a hand on her back. "It worked!"

Willow nodded, relishing the air once again flowing through her lungs, but both of there smiles disappeared as they watched the red dot. Tara breathed in quickly. "He's heading for-"

Jumping to her feet and pulling Tara with her, Willow finished her sentence. "Dawn!"

**7. Die Harding (The Foreshadow)**

Tess Harding sighed and rolled over in a fitful state between sleep and conciousness. She'd hoped that this vacation would give her the edge back, but all she was doing was losing sleep. Worrying about home, what was going on there, if everyone was all right. She wished she didn't care, but she did. She was part of a family now, a real one. And these feelings she was experiencing were pangs of both guilt for leaving and missing her friends.

The motel window slid silently open, letting a harshly cold draft blow through, ruffling the drapes and wrapping itself around her scantily clad body. She growled in a feminine manner and rolled over, shoving her blonde curly head into one of the bed's big fluffy pillows. It took a few more minutes for the girl to realize that her entire body was covered in goosebumps and that her bodice had been blown up past her waist. Confused, she pulled it back down and sat up, still half dazed from lack of full sleep.

She noticed the open window and frowned. _Did I leave that open? _Huffing silently she arose from the mattress, which was seeming more and more like a plank of wood. Of all the places to take a vacation...maybe she'd return home tomorrow. Another blast of wind hit her in the face along with sleet and some white material that quickly disappeared. _Snow?!_ She ran to the window, the wind causing Tess to put on hand over her forehead to shield her eyes.

It _was_ snowing! She couldn't believe it. She'd have to tell the others as soon as possible, but...not before experiencing the white miracle itself. Turning back around, now as awake as she'd get, Tess yelped in surprise. A small square box sat on the bed, completely wrapped in red paper and graced with a bright green bow. Tess was unsure of what to do. How could she handle a situation like this? Get to a phone, tell her friends everything...or open it first?

There was really no question as to the smart choice, but something drew Tess towards the magical box. How had it gotten inside. Did it simply open the window, sneak past her and put itself on the bed when she wasn't looking? Of course not, she was probably just having a dream. Yes, that's it. She was having a dream, a dream on Christmas Eve. And whatever she wished for would be inside that box. Smiling, scrinching her nose in good humor she approached it. Carefully taking the green bow in her hand, Tess felt the material a moment before pulling lightly on it. Sure enough, it untied and both sides fell to their respective places.

Peeling away at the crimson wrapping paper, Tess Harding was beginning to get the strangest feeling of deja vu'. It was though she'd done all this before. Ignoring it as a feeling presented when having any dream, Tess continued unwrapping it. After she was finished, a plain white box sat before her. Dark writing on the front read that it was sent with love and well wishes from...Max Evans. She grinned as another cold bit of air swept in from behind, blowing her hair into her face. She liked this dream. Perhaps it would end with Max making a suprise visit.

With the powers inside of her, Tess caused the tape along the front of the box to disappear, vanishing into nothingness. Leaving only two flaps in the front to keep her her from seeing the gift. Reaching in, she pressed down and snaked a finger around to get a better hold of the top flap, then she pulled upwards. Lifting it, she peeked inside....and frowned. There wasn't anything truly romantic, just a plain, black looking stone. Shrugging she reached inside and picked it out.

It rested in the palm of her hand, sending a chill through her body that had little to do with the cold outside. There was no symbol on the stone, but it was remarkably smooth and dark. It was like nothing she'd ever touched before, as if she were holding smooth ice that would melt. It's darkness was like an endless hole, perfectly sound. But she didn't like it. She hated it, and she was quickly growing to hate this dream, as she realized it was no dream at all. For the stone cast no reflection of it's surroundings, save for her and something she couldn't quite describe, moving in the darkness behind her.

She turned, expecting nothing to be there. But there it crouched, staring up at her with the darkest eyes. It was the ugliest animal she had ever seen. It was as though a dog had died and been stuck in the ground, rotted for a while, then turned inside out, minus the bones. It dripped saliva onte the floor, beginning to growl. Tess decided she'd make a jump for the window when the stone began to grow in her hand. Startled, she watched as it spread, dropping it to the ground. She screamed and ran for the open escape, but her moment of hesitation had cost her that chance. The creature lunged after her, sinking it's ragged teeth into her leg and snapping it's head back, causing her to fall to the floor. She screamed again, fighting desperately to keep the horrid beast's jaws from closing around her neck, but her strength was quickly ebbing away and her hands were just as quickly losing the struggle.

Tess finally gave up when the darkness of the stone enveloped her, allowing the creature to suck the life out of her. The last thing that ran though her mind was a statement of sorts, something like, "She was a girl of extraordinary power, if only she'd been able to use it..."   
_____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, I'll write more soon. I'm working on a bunch of fics write now while juggling all sorts of difficulties, numero uno being the fact that I'm a lazy bastard. Happy belated Turkey-Day people, I hope you're all stuffed to satisfaction, you carnivores. And I want you to know that while you're all going back to school (or work, oddly enough) I'll be here at home, cheering you on and secretly laughing at you behind your backs with my big bad jack-spinning home-schooling self. :0P

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)


	2. The Summer's House

  
Disclaimer- Joss and the WB own the rights, and seeing as how I'm no good in fights, Joss need not frit, this story is shit.

Summary- On Christmas Eve, what's a Jewish girl to do? Why, kick some big fat Santa ass, that's what! But can Willow and Tara really save Sunnydale and defeat Santa without losing the lives of their friends or each other?

Spoilers- There's major Season 5 spoilage all throughout, so if you live elsewhere and want to wait for it to air wherever you are, stop right here.

Rating- Another hard R for my second full-length fic to go on FF.Net. Sex scenes, gore later on, spritzled with profanities and layered in strong violence.

Feedback- You know I want it baby.

_Author's Notes-_ This is a horror story in case you didn't see the category I set it to. It's not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it.   
________________________________________________________________________________________

Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike   
________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 2

**8. Making Calls**

"Ugh, excuse me. Pardon me. Miss, please. Everybody, I'm leaving the store, please get OUT OF MY WAY!"

Riley Finn fought his way through the surprisingly busy late-night crowd, bags filled with gifts and wrapping paper weighing him down. He and Buffy had an excellent reason for not shopping earlier, namely the fact that they continuously had to drop everything to save the world, but what excuses did these people have? Too bogged down by work, to busy with the kids? It just wasn't right, this was a holiday to be planned for and rejoiced over. But not a single person he'd run into had had a smile on their face. It was disheartening to think that this was the direction the world was going in.

His cell phone vibrating within his pocket broke his train of thought, and he stopped walking by the sliding glass doors to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Riley?"

"Of course, who is this?"

"How far are you from Buffy's house?"

"How do you know-"

"Just answer the question!"

"Uh, a couple of miles."

"Riley, you have to get to Buffy's house!"

"Why? W-willow is that you?"

"Yes, drive to Buffy's and get Dawn before he does!"

"Willow, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't have the time talk, and neither do you!" /_click_/

Riley sighed, slipping the cell phone back into his pant's pocket. Gathering his stuff together, he traveled through the doors as they opened before him in a mechanical whir, asking himself for the umpteenth time why he was associated with such strange, oft cryptic people. And once again the answer was Buffy.

* 

Willow put down the phone, biting her lip. She knew she could've told Riley who was after Dawn, but that would have only led to more questions. The best thing to do now was simply get her before Nicholas did.

A hand lightly touching her shoulder startled Willow out of her thoughts and she turned to see Tara's wide eyes looking back at her. "I g-got the book, did you call Riley?"

Willow nodded, her eyes gazing downwards at the book Tara held. It would come of use to her and she doubted Buffy would hate her too much for taking her gift early. Taking it from Tara she put one arm around the girl's shoulders, leading her outside into the cold. Willow made sure she still had her cell phone with her before getting in, as she had another two calls she wanted to make.

**9. House Arrest (Basement Trip)******

Riley closed the door to his car, glancing around the residential area surrounding him. Not a soul about. Christmas lights of all colors glowed in silent, blinking splendor up and down the surprisingly snow-covered streets. Buffy had once told him about this happening at an earlier date, but as it had something to do with Angel he'd decided not to call her about it when he saw the snow falling outside the stores. Walking up the slick walk, Riley shook a little in his brown leather jacket and navy-blue turtle-neck sweater. _God, it's nice weather, but why do I feel so creeped?_ It couldn't have been Will's nervous-jitters phone call, he was sure she'd simply had a bad dream and had done a spell wrong as a result, or some such nonsense. Demons weren't around at Christmas very much. Maybe it was the whole Godly thing. In any case, he felt his khakis to make sure his gun was where it should be.****

Riley grunted as he unlocked the door to Buffy's house; he'd have to oil the lock, it was starting to get fairly stiff. Opening the door, Riley considered calling out to Dawn or Joyce, but then realized what time it was. What if nothing was wrong and he woke them for no reason? He'd check things out first before going into drastic measures. As it was he kept his magnum by his side, cocked and loaded, ready for action.

Taking short breaths from his chest to his lungs, Riley positioned himself by the door of the living room, summoning up the strength to enter. An odd electric noise filled his ears, and he guessed it must have been the AC kicking on. Counting to three, he bumped the opening and raised his gun...nothing. The darkened room was empty. As he turned around though, a noise like cans tumbling down onto each other made him jump, turning around again and approaching the door that connected the living room to the kitchen and dining room. Putting his gun up, feeling as though he wasn't quite ready for whatever this was, Riley stepped through the dark entryway.

* 

Dawn awoke in a silent gasp, the last bit of a horrible nightmare fading away into the dark recesses of her mind. By the time she'd put her feet on the floor she'd already forgotten the contents of the scary dream. Dawn found that she was often very good at that, making bad things go away when she didn't want them there. She thought maybe she just had good control over her imagination.

Sighing, the young girl stood up, stretching her arms and yawning sleepily. She wanted rest for what she was sure would be an exciting day tomorrow, but her throat was sore and her tongue felt fuzzy. She needed something to drink before getting back to bed. Silently opening the door to her bedroom, Dawn slipped outside in her fuzzy bunny slippers and her Serena/Sailor Moon night-shirt, carefully walking down the hall to make sure she didn't step on the creaky boards and wake her mother.

When she came to the bathroom she suddenly realized how bad water tasted on her tongue when it felt this fuzzy, and decided instead to go get something from the fridge downstairs.

* 

Finding nothing in the kitchen but a mess of canned tuna, Riley had replaced the foods and left the kitchen through the side entrance, examining the laundry room and once again coming up dry as nightly predators would go. He figured that had anyone been here he would've heard something by now, and the Bailey's he'd picked up for Buffy and himself were quickly melting in the backseat of his car. Of course, that was his own fault really. He'd left the car and the heating on so the windows wouldn't freeze over from the snow. He supposed he could've found a way to fit the ice cream in with the presents in the trunk.

In any case, this seemed pointless. Wandering around Buffy's house at night, searching for something that stood a very good chance of not even being there. The only thing keeping him where he was was the fact that Willow had sounded genuinely frightened. Rounding over to the back of the first floor, Riley checked two closets before nearing himself to the basement, which was situated opposite the back door to the house. A white curtain covered the panes of glass that would have otherwise revealed the outside world to him, but Riley could still make out the shadow of a tree in the moonlight as it swayed in the cold snowy wind. Something beyond the tree caught his attention, and Riley pulled back the drapes to get a better look. Under a particularly large tree sat a snow-covered wooden sled. He smiled a little. Joyce was one to give into festiveness of the season, but that sled looked expensive.

Shivering a little, Riley tried to ignore the ominous creaking of the basement door and stepped down inside. He wasn't the least bit surprised to find that the light at the top of the steps didn't work. Pulling out his lighter, Riley flicked open the metal casing with his thumb and flicked again at the blackened roller, lighting the fire. Putting it slightly away from his face, Riley began descending the staircase, light source in one hand and weapon in the other.

* 

Dawn opened the refrigerator, basking in the mechanical thrum as it came to life before her, the small light at the top providing her a view of what it held within. Grabbing some orange juice she closed the fridge and opened a cupboard as quietly as possible. Once a cup was in hand she opened the flask of the o.j. carton and poured some in, filling the glass. The wind blew softly outside and at that moment she could have sworn she heard movement in the living room. Shaking it off, Dawn put the juice back in the fridge, closed the door and took her cup.

As she moved to leave though, another sudden noise from the living room caused her to back up into a counter, knocking over a few cans of tuna her mother had laid out. Hearing footsteps approaching she quickly stepped out of the room, heading for the staircase. When whoever it was passed by she'd go upstairs and get her mom...

But they never came out. Peeking her head back into the kitchen she found that the person had used the back hallway, through the laundry room. A creak announced to her that they were going into the basement. She smiled in spite of herself. Putting her cup on the counter, Dawn crept through the laundry room to the rear hall. The door to the basement stood wide open.

* 

The wisp of flame the Zippo provided was getting on Riley's nerves. It wasn't nearly enough to sustain his sight and give very much idea to form of the basement. It was small, more so than Xander's, but it was enough for a bunch of boxes to be stuffed in. Pale shafts of moonlight would have filtered through better had the cardboard boxes not been piled so high as to block them. He stumbled a bit on something that rustled and jingled, guessing it was a carton of old Christmas decorations.

A small whirring sound came to his attention. It was somewhere below him, perhaps set off by his clumsiness. He doubted it was loud enough to be heard by anyone outside of the basement, but he stooped to find and turn it off nonetheless. As he stooped his foot squished in a puddle of water, probably dripping from a broken pipe nearby.

The door above him slammed shut, and for a moment he thought it could simply be the wind when a clicking noise was also heard. Someone had just locked him in the basement. For whatever reason, the slamming of the door jarred the power cords leading to the light switch, and they flashed on and off for a moment before unsteadily illuminating the room. Riley looked down on instinct.

"Jesus!", he screamed backing away from Joyce's body, tripping on boxes and falling over. Not daring to get up, he examined what was left of her. She lay in a slowly growing pool of blood, his shoe mark disappearing next to her head. His mouth opened and closed in shock, though no sound came out. He didn't have to wonder long to see what had torn open Joyce's neck. It crawled out of a recent hole in her flesh, it's metallic feet raking the skin. Clutched in her hand was a small box. Wrapping paper was strewn all about and a bow stuck out from underneath her.

The killer toy spider noticed Riley and turned slightly to face him. Riley saw out of the corner of his eye that there was a cheap gold-painted dinner platter next to him, stuffed in one of the many boxes. His hand crept towards it, his eyes locked on the tiny killer. As soon as his fingers grasped the plate the spider lunged, seeming to fly through the air towards him. He swung his faux-gold weapon and hit the spider in mid-air, watching as it flew into one of the small corners, busting in an electric gasp.

_That thing killed Joyce? Oh god, what am I going to tell Buffy? _Riley got to his feet, still too shocked to do anything other than stare at the body. They should've been there to protect her, checked up on her more. Now she was...he couldn't think up any words he could possibly use to explain to Buffy what had happened.

Prying his eyes away from the grisly sight, Riley looked up at the door. Someone must have given Joyce that package, or perhaps Joyce had found it. Either way, there could be more of them, which meant that Dawn could still be in danger. He desperately hoped that she was the one who had closed the door on him...

On the steps, Riley figured he wouldn't tell Dawn what had happened. Better to let Buffy do that. A shuffling sound interrupted his fazed demeanor, and he looked downwards to where the spider had landed. He could see a few mechanical legs here and there, scattered around, but nothing to dangerous. Then a light skittering noise began, and Riley's gaze locked back on the box, still in Joyce's hand. It was impossible! Hundreds upon what must have been thousands of tiny miniatures of the first spider were pouring in masses out of the small box. They looked more like small gray granddaddy long-leg spiders, but Riley knew better. His feet thumped as he tore up the wooden steps, reaching the top and hitting the door with all his weight. No good, the door remained solid.

"Dawn! Dawn, for Christ's sake let me OUT! DAWN!"

The skittering sound was everywhere now, buzzing incessantly in his ears. Below him a sea of deadly gray was forming, covering almost every part of the floor. Then Riley remembered his gun. Aiming it at the knob and standing back, Riley fired the weapon at the base of the locked doorknob. The gun burst in recoil and the metal handle flew off the door, the lock severely damaged. He was reaching back to kick in the door when the stairs caved in beneath him.

**10. House Arrest (Scaring Dawn Away)**

Dawn ran up the stairs when the screaming started. She'd gone for broke and was getting her Mom and was calling Buffy and the police and Riley if he wasn't with Buffy. She could have sworn the man had yelled her name a few times, and his voice sounded familiar, but she knew better than to listen to anyone who broke into her house late at night. On Christmas Eve no less. The perfect time for burglars.

Mom wasn't in her bed. Nor was she in the bathroom. Dawn, getting a bit overwhelmed now, called out to her mother, but no avail. There was no answer. A groan and a loud thump resounded throughout the house, coming from the first floor. Dawn yelped and ran into her room, looking for any sort of weapon. Throwing open the closet, she searched until she found a baseball bat, then realized as she took it that she lived with a vampire slayer. She was about to exit to Buffy's room when something on her bed caught her eye.

A small red box, wrapped in a green bow. The tag read that it was from Xander! Could he be in the house now? Dawn shook her head, evading the fog entering her mind. This wasn't right, someone was playing a trick on her. Running out of her room and into Buffy's, Dawn began searching for the weapon stash. Upon opening the closet Dawn saw the chipped blade of a broken, blood-covered and rusty axe, but that was it. Shrugging, she grabbed it and swung it around a few times. Seemed good enough, and Buffy was probably not going to use it again in the shape it was in.

An explosion ripped Buffy's door off it's hinges and threw Dawn off her feet, onto the bed. Black smoke began to filter into the room, and as Dawn ran out into the upstairs hallway she knew that whatever happened had occurred in her own room. Her eyes widened in realization...the present! Forgetting phoning the police or Buffy, Dawn decided it was time to get to the neighbor's house. Running down the steps, Dawn was heading for the door when she heard her mother's voice in the living room.

"Mom!", she yelled happily, dashing into the dark room to find it empty. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, but she realized that the tree wasn't plugged in and soot covered the floor, even marking footprints across to the kitchen. She gasped when she noticed where they emanated from. The chimney...

"Dawn?" Mom was calling to her from the kitchen.

"Mom?" Dawn approached the now closed door leading into the dining area, but stopped as a thought occurred to her. The footprints lead into the kitchen.

"Dawn, help me! Please honey, I'm trapped under the fridge!"

"Mom, is anyone else in there?"

"Of course not baby, please help me!"

Her heart torn between fear and her love for her mother, Dawn opened the door. Complete darkness reigned from the kitchen. Nothing could be seen. She felt her heart stop in her chest as a deep voice called out, "You heard your mother, Dawn." Before she could run, a monster in a red suit leaned out from the darkness and grabbed her shirt, staring into her eyes. "Now GET IN HERE!"

With a scream she was pulled inside.

**11. House Arrest (Escape)**

Riley gasped, looking down four feet at certain death. And fairly soon it would only be three feet as the swarm of deadly spiders continued to grow. He stood on a piece of debris from the demolished staircase, faced precariously at a forty-five degree angle. He was well-aware that one wrong move would disrupt the balance, and he'd fall into the scuttling mass of android arachnids.

Looking back and up towards the door he'd just about escaped through, Riley noticed a part of the wooden foundation of the staircase remained, positioned directly next to the door. Rising unsteadily and very slowly, Riley watched beneath him as the mound grew, then glanced to his right, back where the beam of the foundation began.

A pain in his ankle made Riley yelp and lift his foot in shock. A few spiders had managed to climb up already and were attacking his feet with their razor-shard mandibles. Unfortunately, Riley's raising his foot caused the weight on the wood to shift. He heard the cracking of timber beneath him and knew it was time to act. Ignoring the spiders, Riley jumped from what remained of the stairwell to the support beam, wrapping his arm around it and turning his head just in time to see the board he was on disappear in the sea of gray.

Shaking his foot and hitting it against the beam, Riley crushed the spiders left on his shoe and proceeded to climb his way up the wood towards the door. He noticed with no small amount of fear that not only had the floor beneath been completely consumed, but that the spiders were quickly climbing up after him, clicking and shifting their way up. Well, at least Joyce's body was gone from sight.

Reaching the point where the stairs should have ended, Riley put one hand out and with all of his might hit the door with his palm. Despite the burst of fiery flame his palm was feeling, Riley gave an hysterical grin as the door swung open, revealing darkness beyond. Risking a look down again, Riley was reminded of the nature specials that showed some kid putting a stick in an ant hill, then pulling it out to reveal the stick entirely covered in ants. He had to get off this beam.

But as he ventured one of his legs out and found stable ground on the other side of the door, Riley felt a chill run down the length of his spine. A hand wrapped it self on the corner of the door, then another.

"D-Dawn?"

Joyce, grinning madly, popped her head around the corner and Riley screamed. Her hands disappeared and she slammed the door shut, it's lock glowing bright red for a moment before fading out. Riley banged on the door as he felt the tiny monsters beginning to crawl along the side of his leg, biting at the flesh beneath his khakis.

_Ignore the pain, ignore the pain, think, think, think!_

But his thought process was interrupted as the wooden support he was on groaned, and once again he heard the crackling sound that could only mean one thing. Ripping his jacket off his shoulders, Riley wrapped the leather around his head and torso and yelled from the pain in his leg as the beam snapped, falling at an angle directly into the death trap below. Riley disappeared beneath and all was still save for the constant swimming motion of the millions of tiny enemies.

Then a blood streaked hand rose out from the mass, followed by another. Riley Finn, once a leading soldier in the initiative, once a well-respected and feared man, would not be beaten by these odds. He'd faced worse. Finally the leather jacket, swarming with the little nemeses, lifted itself out of the pool, grappling onto a cardboard box leaned against a wall. He continued to climb in what must have been the worst pain he'd ever felt, the sound of constant skittering and gnawing all around him.

His hands, though slippery from his own blood spilling out of dozens of tiny cuts, were able to cling onto the cardboard as he made his way up the western wall of the basement. When he'd neared the top, he pushed two boxes in front of him out of the way, and through the cover of his jacket Riley saw the small windows leading outside. He laughed as he tried to open one, notice that there really wasn't any way to at his position. It didn't matter. Ramming one already bloody fist through the glass, Riley got a good hold of the cement wall outside and reared back, preparing to run himself through the remaining glass.

The jacket once again took most of the blow, though a few shards did make it threw to cut his scalp. He grimaced and pulled himself the rest of the way out. Once completely free he jumped to his feet and tore of his jacket, doing a wild dance and slapping his slick hands all over his body, laughing and tearing up at the pain and the shock from all of the electric spiders being crushed against him.

Once the spiders were off and he'd assessed the damages, Riley backed away from the small mess he'd made and allowed himself to fall on his ass. He reached a hand up and pressed it to his forehead, continuing to laugh at what he'd just escaped. He leaned over and grabbed his shredded jacket, tearing off a few strips and wincing as he tied them around his now paling hands. He'd be limping and avoiding picking up heavy objects for a while, but he had survived.

A scream brought him out of his reverie, bringing his gaze up the second floor, which he now realized was on fire, and Dawn's room was totally obliterated. Standing up, Riley searched for his gun. No good. He must've dropped it when the stairwell had caved. A quick glance back at the window told him how likely he was to get it, what with the mound of spiders continuing to grow. He doubted it would take any more than five minutes before they began to pour out of the window he'd just exited from. Picking up his jacket and reaching into his pocket, Riley cursed loudly when he felt the sting of another few spiders that had made it through his rampage, but he pulled out what he was looking for. His Zippo glimmered back at him radiantly in the backdrop of the fire above.

Throwing the remains of the jacket down to the ground and stomping on it a few times for good measure, Riley turned and gazed again at the sleigh he'd seen earlier. He now seriously doubted Joyce had picked it up.

Suddenly the sleigh turned around, lifting itself in the air. He backed up, startled. _Well, that answers that question._

"Riley!" He looked again at the second floor and caught sight of Dawn being carried away by some huge creature, off into the darkness of the second floor, only slight revealed by the raging fire. Was it really Dawn? Or was it another trick to lure him back to the house? Behind him, the sled began to move again of it's own accord, slowly rising higher into the air and tilting to one side. It looked to be headed for the roof. Riley, not completely sure of what he was doing, grabbed a gardening shovel with one bandaged hand and the bottom of the large sleigh with the other, rising up with it. All he could hope for was that the Dawn he saw was the real thing, and that he shouldn't just be running for his life right now...

* 

Dawn was struggling to get out of the big man's grasp, to get to the window and call out to Riley again, but the fraud Santa held onto her tightly and wouldn't let go. He'd just about done something awful to her in the kitchen, grabbing at her waist and bottom lewdly, but the loud noises from the basement had caused him to go into hysterics, yelling about 'Diablo' and 'killing the boy the old-fashioned way', and other stuff she didn't understand. She was simply thankful that he'd been stopped from his original intentions.

Now they were back in Buffy's room, the fat Santa using Buffy's own axe to destroy the window.

"You bastard, let me go!"

He laughed in a rumbling, sickly wet sort of way. "Now-now child, don't be so naughty."

At first she thought he was going to throw her out the window, but was surprised when he helped her latch onto the railing. Some ugly black bows snaked their way out of his coat, tying her in place. "Now, don't you go no where. I've got a little business to take care of before I get back to you, sweet thing."

She was about to spit into his horrid face (she knew that's what they did in all the movies) when a hole that looked a lot like a chimney opened above him, and he disappeared upwards. What was going on?!

* 

Riley set himself down on the roof, rolling from under the girth of the magical sled as it also came down with a heavy and reverberating _THUD!_ to the surface. Crouching, the ex-agent looked around tried to spot the monster and Dawn. But along with the sleigh he was the only being there. Had it been a trick?

A hole suddenly appeared on the other side of the roof, and someone Riley had never expected to flew out of it, a grin from ear to ear on the fat man's gray face.

"The key is Diablo's now, and I can dispose of you properly."

Frowning, Riley was to tell the truth a bit intimidated by the man in the red suit, his wide belly and looming figure cast by the starry sky and the full moon directly behind him. It seemed almost fitting in a nightmarish sort of way, thousands of Christmas lights all around them on other rooftops as well as their own. Santa (or what he could only guess was Santa) started to walk towards him.

Riley suddenly remembered the garden shovel in his hand, which he twirled deftly and pointed forward as he charged at the fat behemoth. Unfortunately, Claus was impossibly nimble for his age and weight. By the time Riley realized what had happened he felt a huge blow to the back of his head, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling to the other side. As soon as he stopped skidding Riley jumped to his feet, though pain shot up across his body as his injuries were making themselves noticed.

Claus laughed and once again began slowly (deceptively so) trundling towards him. Riley backed up, looking for an angle on the situation. As soon as Santa was about three feet from him Riley saw his chance. He rolled to the left and as he suspected his opponent was quick in turning to meet him. Riley started to roll again only this time stopped directly by Santa's feet, thrusting the small shovel upwards. He was rewarded with a slick wet sound of sharp metal entering soft skin.

Claus howled, one hand reaching down to grab the Riley and the other reaching behind him. Riley jumped up and away, retracting his weapon and twirling it expertly again, taunting the bigger man. But Claus just grinned, his one hand still behind his back, seeming to be rummaging through his shirt. Riley frowned.

"What, you expected a big red bag? Enchanted coating is where it's at. Like having a black hole on you shoulders."

"You mean instead of in your stomach?"

He actually laughed at this, his bellow seeming to shake the entire roof. "Guess who's going on my 'Bad Boy List', Finn."

Riley was about to ask the obvious, but realized that Santa Claus knew everyone's name. Maybe he was the true thing. In which case, if Riley got out of this alive he promised himself he'd take up Kwanzaa. Meanwhile, Claus found what he was looking for and pulled out an axe that looked very familiar to Riley. _Oh, it's Buffy's present for Giles!_

Without another word, Claus charged after him, swinging the axe above his head. Riley jumped backwards but couldn't match the speed nor the ferocity. Metal _twanged_ on metal as Riley lifted the shovel in defense, catching it on the blade of the axe. They dueled strengths for a moment before Claus head-butted him, sending Riley down onto his knees. His opponent then knocked the weapon out of his dazed grasp, raising the axe for a final blow. Going for broke, Riley let himself fall backwards on the slanted roof.

The axe was faster though, and it's end snagged on his sweater, ripping into the flesh of his shoulder but keeping him from falling off the roof. He yelled in pain, throwing a fist against the red man's left knee and grabbing the hilt of the axe when he doubled over in pain. A tug of war began between them as to who would gain control of the weapon, and while it was obvious who was stronger, Riley found the he now held a crazy edge. Literally.

Gasping in pain, he rose to his feet and began leaning backwards, breaking the balance. Claus realized just as he did that if he let go, Riley would most definitely fall off. So he did, freeing his grasp of the hilt, his ugly fingers showing dead-blue skin. Riley's breath left him as his feet shot backwards and he fell off the roof, flailing his arms. But he was also swinging his newly acquired weapon in the air, and as he came down the bottom part of the blade caught on to the gutter, giving Riley a chance to get a better grip and place his feet on a windowsill beneath him, regaining some sense of stability.

"Riley!" A voice called out beneath him in a hushed whisper. He looked down and his eyes widened.

"Dawn? What's he got tied to you?"

"I don't know, but keep him busy, I'm almost out of this!"

He nodded, tightening his grip on the axe and winking at her, though inside pain was knocking his brain all around inside his head. "You got it. Call to me when you're out. I'll get us out of here."

With that, he lifted himself, peeking over the edge. Claus was by his sled, apparently looking through a large leather-bound spell-book. Riley tried to be as silent as possible as he lifted himself, but his foot suddenly became snared in a line of colored bulbs Joyce had stapled around the roof. Unable to free himself, Riley was unprepared for the kick to the ribs that once again sent him over the edge. But this time nothing was there to keep him up. The string of lights carried him along as he fell, unstapling itself along the way. Put one particular knot in the cord saved his life not two yards from the ground. Kicking out, he was able to free himself from the line's grasp.

A scream caused him to look upwards, and Riley felt a bit of deja vu'. Santa had gotten back down and was approaching Dawn, who had now freed herself from the restraints but was pressed against the opening in the wall. He was essentially where he had been when they'd been at the back of the house. But at least now there was a way of escape, as simple and dangerous as it may be. Cupping his hands over his mouth, Riley called out, "Dawn, jump and I'll catch you!"

Not needing to be told twice, the young girl leaped through what had been a window, falling about half-a-dozen yards into Riley's arms. Claus had to regain his step above, having lunged at the girl just as she'd jumped. He hopped through the chimney-portal once more before getting into his sleigh, commanding it to fly off the roof. He still had a nice surprise for the two humans below.

And Riley had one in return. The light cord in his hands, Riley swung it like a lasso, letting it fly and wrap itself around one foot of the sleigh. This caused the air-vehicle to jerk in mid-air, just as Claus threw a present down to them. He doubled back so that he was facing the key and Finn, then commanded the lassoed machine to race towards them. Riley saw it coming like a missile and grabbed Dawn who he'd just put down, jumping out of the way. The sleigh was now traveling so fast that when it hit the next closest thing, that being Riley's car, it sent the large object hurtling upwards.

Claus roared in frustration and flew off, disappearing into the night sky, racing beyond the rooftops. Riley and Dawn watched as his car came back down from up above, slamming to the ground; demolished. It started to burn and then imploded a few moments later, but by that time Riley and Dawn were well out of the way, up against the side of the house. Riley had looked down at the small black object in his hand which Claus had dropped down to them. Turning it over, Riley saw a small timer in red letters, counting down and beeping as it did.

_07...___

"A bomb?"

_06...___

"Could be."

_05...___

"He already put one in my room."

_04... _A small crawling sound entered Riley's ears from the other side of the wall they were leaning against. He could also now hear thousands of tiny beeps, synchronized with that of the black timer.

_03...___

"Oh god, the spiders!"

_02...___

"What, where?!"

"Just run!"

_01..._

They got to the street before the explosion carried them the rest of the way, ramming them both into a neighboring house with a fireball ripping through the crisp December air behind them, marking the end of the Summers' House. Lumber and metal flew like aerial weapons, chunks embedding themselves into cars, window, houses and sheds. Even a street lamp burst in the rage. One such wooden projectile _swooshed_ through the air and slammed into Riley's thigh. Which actually helped, considered it added but also sorted out the pain in his body, equalizing it somehow. Now he felt like dying in every part of his body.

Dawn, unscathed save inwardly and a small blister that would form on her foot from the burning heat of the explosion and bruises on her cheek and elbow from hitting the side of the house, picked herself up off the ground and limped over to Riley, who remained still on the ground.

"You okay?"

Sighing, he looked up at her, but still didn't move. "I will be."

The sound of a car screeching to halt behind them finally forced Riley to at least roll on his side (with a little help from Dawn) to see that it was Willow and Tara. The car doors slammed simultaneously as the girls looked up at the blazing inferno in shock and horror.

"You're a little late!", Riley called to them.

Willow turned, tears in her eyes and a hand covering her mouth. She gave a relieved sob of joy as thought returned to her and she realized that they were alive. Willow ran over to them and Tara followed suit. Greeting were exchanged the form of more sobbing and the thanking of certain names Dawn couldn't understand until Willow began looking around sharply.

"Where is Joyce?"

Dawn looked sadly over to Riley, who shook his head. Willow couldn't feel anything at the moment emotionally, (having just seen her best friend be eaten alive) but she did finally get a good look at Riley.

"Oh no! What happened to you?"

He groaned, motioning that he needed help up. Something Willow knew that he wouldn't do unless it was more than necessary, which scared her even more. Tara reached for one shoulder and Willow the other, Riley struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness as they carried him to the station wagon, Dawn in tow.

"I'll be happy to tell you...when we're well away from here", he said dazedly.

It took a few more moments for the three girls to get Riley to lie down in the back seat, Willow taking notice of blood-drenched leather covering his hands acting as make-shift bandages. After seeing that he'd already fallen asleep, they enter the front of the car. Dawn was devastated at the loss of her mother, and to be truthful she didn't quite believe it yet. It was too much to sink in. But she could at least feel safe sitting between Willow and Tara as they drove off towards Giles'.****

**12. Grouping**

"So you don't know for sure that she's dead?"

"I-I don't know. I'm not thinking clearly."

"Riley, that's the only part of your account that doesn't piece together. What did you find in the basement that caused you alarm?"

Riley sighed, feeling better now that his wounds were properly bandaged and healing (thanks to a few of Tara's herbology tricks) but feeling worse that he had to recount to them exactly what had happened to him. He leaned closer to Giles, coffee mugs in both of their hands and a warm towel wrapped around Riley. Both he and Dawn still had smudges of ash on their faces from the explosion.

"My memory's a little off at that point Giles," he whispered, "Maybe I could get a bit of it back if certain parties weren't in the room." With that he made a quick nod towards Dawn, now wearing a pair of Xander's mother's jeans (Willow had mentioned the predicament when she'd called him about what was going on) and sipping hot chocolate. She had a warm quilt around her shoulders in contrast to Riley's towel.

Giles blinked and nodded. "Dawn, y-you can take a shower if you'd like now. Just to get the soot off."

Realizing what was going to be discussed, she nodded silently and trundled down the hall, quilt dragging behind her as she limped slightly. Riley'd be damned if she didn't paint the saddest picture he'd ever seen. Once she'd gotten a towel from the closet and had closed the door from the bathroom, Riley turned back to Giles and the others. Namely; Willow and Tara, who were at the floor examining their target on the map, Giles who was sitting on the armchair next him, and Xander who was on the sofa, also adjacent Riley.

"Some sort of gift. She must have found and opened it. Inside was a-a spider. Like an electronic one. It probably took her by surprise and...and I really don't want to go into details after that. I found her in the basement. After I killed the spider the little ones started pouring out of the same box, and you know the rest after that."

Giles nodded, not saying anything for a moment. Riley could tell that he too was fighting back the urge to break down. They all were. But if they wanted to catch the bastard they'd have to remain strong until the occasion presented itself to just let go. The Englishman looked up at him.

"The box, all of them poured out of the same small one?"

Riley nodded, talking around the coffee. Giles had suggested tea for all, but Willow had mentioned that anything caffeine-heavy might've been the better choice. "Yeah. The big guy was sayin' something about enchantments being the 'in' thing now. That's when he pulled out...uh, Buffy's axe." Riley gestured to the weapon next Giles on the small table beside him. "Dawn said she took it from Buffy's closet and he took it from her."

Giles smiled politely. "It's all right, Riley. I had mentioned to Buffy that I'd been looking at Mithral's Axe as something I would like."

Willow muttered under her breath, "Buffy's gotta stop putting unwrapped gifts in the closet." Suddenly she looked up at them. "He's moving."

They gathered around the map, watching as the small red dot began to move again (they figured that he must've been recuperating above Sunnydale Park. Now it appeared as though the dot was shaking, as though it was unsure of where to go.

"What's it doing, Will?", Xander asked.

The witch shook her head. "I don't know."

They gasped as they red dot suddenly became two red dots, heading in separate directions. Both stopped shortly after. One at a corner of Sunnydale Park, the other at a business joint, _Jim's Steak and Ale_.

"Great, how the hell did that happen? What are we supposed to do now?"

Willow looked up at Xander as though the answer was simple. "We split up. He's either at the old carnival in the park or he's at the _Steak and Ale_."

Xander looked at her, shocked. "So why don't we go check them one at a time? It's crazy to split up, we wouldn't-"

Willow shook her head, cutting him off. "Xander, do you realize what he's doing. Didn't you think it's odd how everyone in town has disappeared all of the sudden? How no one came out to help Riley and Dawn, or even to see what the commotion was?"

He threw his hands up. "So?!"

"So, no one's waking up. They're all going to bed and sleeping. Then when they wake up in the morning, mass murder. A present from Santa Claus to every person in town, but they're not supposed to be up to find them until morning."

Riley shook his head, disagreeably. "Why did Joyce wake up early? Why are any of us up?"

Giles pointed to the bathroom in understanding. "Dawn. We're all directly linked to her, which is why Kringle wanted her. I think she's keeping us awake. Why else would he want her and Buffy?"

Willow frowned. "What are you talking about?"

He realized that Buffy must still not have spoken to any of them about her sister's being the key, the light of day. "I...I think, being Buffy's sister, she has a special bond. P-Perhaps, you know it's just a theory to go along with your own, Willow."

Willow nodded, deep in thought. "Well, if that's true, I think Tara and I could cast a short-period protection spell on the house to keep him out. I don't know how long it would last, but it's worth a shot."

"Well we can't just leave her here. Besides, why are we doing anything without Buffy? You said he took her with him, right Willow? How do we know she's-she's all right?"

Willow's faced turned red. She hadn't been completely truthful with any of them as to Kringle's capturing of Buffy. Except, that is for Tara. "I know she's fine. I know she is. Xander, you can't stay here and watch over Dawn. You work best with her."

He nodded. Willow looked over at Giles. "We need a way of communication...do you have any walky-talkies?"

* 

They spread out into the night after the spell had been cast and luck had been wished by an to all. Willow and Tara headed for the park, Giles and Riley for the restaurant. Xander and Dawn (in a clean T-shirt and big socks) stood at the doorway, watching them drive off. None of them were quite sure they'd see the light of day again. And, some of them wouldn't...   
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Hey all! Boy, I enjoyed writing that bit! Killing off Joyce and basking in the glory of it all. Sorry, I know this chapter dealt mainly with Riley and I hadn't planned on it being such a long chapter. Yes, I know how almost all of us hate Riley with a fiery passion. I used to like him a lot. I've always imagined him as the perfect Leon F. Kennedy. But I'm proud of it nonetheless. Guess what? ...I forgot! And do you know why? Right, cause it's two-fucking thirty in the morning as I'm finishing this, that's why. (Correction: Four o'clock as I've just finished proof-reading) Anyway, I promise, Riley will not be such a central figure in the following three chapters. This is mainly a Willow/Tara story after all. I have a great sex scene coming up to! :o)

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)

---Not one, or two or three but four, FOUR STONES! I mea- What the hell am I supposed to do with an emp-ty case! (mumble) Yes, but you can still count! Look it's easy! See look at my fingers, look, Four stones, Four crates, Zero stones, ZERO CRATES!


	3. Night Out - Side A

  
Disclaimer- Joss and the WB own the rights.

Summary- On Christmas Eve, what's a Jewish girl to do? Why, kick some big fat Santa ass, that's what! But can Willow and Tara really save Sunnydale and defeat Santa without losing the lives of their friends or each other?

Spoilers- There's major Season 5 spoilage all throughout.

Rating- Hard R: Sex scenes, gore, spritzled with profanities and layered in strong violence.

Feedback- You know it.

_Author's Notes-_ This is a horror story in case you didn't see the category I set it to. It's not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it.   
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Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike   
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Chapter 3

**13. Signs of Turbulence**

"I know what I'm doing..."

Tara looked over at her nervously. A word hadn't been spoken since they'd left Giles' house. "I-I'm sure you do."

Willow looked back at her and grimaced. "C'mon Tara, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This, the solemn looks, the constant fidgeting, agreeing with me when something's bugging you."

"It's nothing."

Willow's eyes widened.

"Aha, it is something! Otherwise you wouldn't have referred to it as though anything existed in the first place."

Tara sighed in frustration. "Please, d-don't do this. I'm just in shock, that's all. As to w-what happened to Buffy. And Ms. um, Joyce."

"...Really?"

Tara nodded, her eyes steadily watching the dark-white road as Willow drove around the tall gate of Sunnydale Park.

"Yeah..."

"And you'd tell me if there was something wrong?" Willow inquired hopefully.

Tara pointed to something outside of the car. "Is that the place?"

Willow momentarily forgot the flow of the conversation and looked to where Tara was pointing. "Yeah...this is it. The old Sunnydale Carnival..."

**14. Getting Past the Gate**

Sunnydale Park was quite large, with about ten square acres of land mass. This is where many of Buffy's patrols would lead, seeing as how it was the most common place for midnight joggers and the occasional rapist or pedophile to prowl. And in the southeast corners, shrouded in woods and covering about one-forth of the park, stood Sunnydale's former carnival spot. Now normally, a carnival is defined as a traveling fair providing sources of entertainment such as games, rides and side-shows. And originally that's exactly what it had been.

Every year the carnival would be erected in Sunnydale Park for three weeks, then it would be taken down and the owners of the carnival would travel elsewhere for the other fifty-two and a half weeks, but always returning. Unfortunately, three years before this very Christmas, the carnival was about to be taken down again when vampires attacked and slaughtered almost every worker there. Had it not been for Buffy, _everyone_ would have died. But that's another story altogether...

Willow parked the car in a secluded area between to drooping trees of her own namesake and the witches emerged, the sound of their doors shutting reverberating throughout the forest.

"I've never seen this place before." Tara said, awe of the old fair easily read in her voice.

Willow shrugged slightly, walking with her to the gates. "Well, it isn't the kind of thing I ever figured you wanted to see."

Their shoes crunched in the snow, which hadn't taken much time to cover the forest floor, but at least their surrounding was keeping the snow from falling at such a steady rate. In fact, it was almost as though the snow had just magically appeared on the ground.

A glint at the end of her vision caught Willow's eye, and she signaled to Tara, who at that moment had been contemplating climbing a nearby sapling to get across.

"Over here." Willow looked behind her to make sure Tara was following, as she didn't want them to get separated too far apart. If Kringle were to ambush either one of them alone...She shuddered at the thought, and on the impulse stopped walking, waiting for her other to catch up with her.

The faded green ticket booth looked as though it would fit better in some fifties horror film, as it was covered in cobwebs and the Plexiglas separating the inside from the out was lined in cracks. The main gateway looked fully closed, and would probably take quite a bit of strength to get over. Still, it hadn't stopped the vampires.

Tara gasped as they arrived at the booth, grabbing Willow's shoulder. The red-head herself was forced to turn her gaze away from the acrid smell of death. A skeleton was still stuck in the booth, a bit of raggedy hair sticking out from underneath his blue cap. Vines had snaked in from outside of the booth and perversely wrapped themselves around his neck and collarbone, then up and out through one of his eye sockets. His uniform was splattered in long dried blood, the most of it being around the area of his shoulders, suggesting that one vampire had been a particularly messy eater.

"Goddess...what happened here?"

Willow shook her head. "I'll tell you some other time, when we're not in danger of winding up looking like that." She suddenly spotted a ring of keys in the man's chest pocket. Feeling a bit braver as a flash of Buffy's silently screaming face ran though her mind, Willow balled up her red denim jacket around her small fist and took a deep breath. "Stand back."

Tara did so, not sure of what she was about to do. Willow punched her hand at the cracked glass of the booth. It bounced off harmlessly, though she did manage to further some of the cracks already there. Willow gave a small cry and put her hand against her chest, doubling-over as her eyes scrinched up in pain. Tara covered her mouth with her hand and hurried back to Willow, putting her arms around her.

"Owie, owie, owie...owwww, dammit!" Willow started trying to hop, which was a bit difficult with Tara clinging onto her. She turned around to face Tara and rested her forehead on the girl's shoulder. "Buffy makes it look so easy, she just flicks a finger and poof, broken glass. No problem. Me, I think I just dusted all my knuckles."

Tara nodded, running her hands over Willow's back. "I know. B-but you did a nice job of cracking the g-glass..."

Willow sniffed and looked back at the booth. "Yeah...look at that one right there, I think I doubled it in length."

"You want to try again?"

Willow shot her love a dirty look.

* 

"J-just a little bit further."

"I can't go a little bit further, this hurts!"

"C'mon, you can d-do it. I've got you, I've got y-you."

Tara stood on the ground inside of the park, motioning for Willow to let herself down a bit further over the gate. So far neither girl had torn their blue jeans, which clung tightly to their legs in the cold, but Tara's dark green sweater was ruffled a bit. Willow shakily put one hand between the spikes in the bars and then the other, lowering herself further down.

"That's it. Hang on, I've got you." Willow sighed in relief as she felt Tara's hands on her waist, and as a result laxed the stress on her grip. So much so that the slippery ice covering the bars caused her grasp to give away. Both girls yelped as they fell to the ground, Willow's back on Tara.

After a moment of simply laying in the aftershock Willow groaned, rolling over but not off of Tara. Seeing the other girl's eyes watching her, she grinned. Tara smiled back and the frozen leaves underneath her crackled as she brought up a hand to brush a lock of Willow's autumn-red hair out of her face. Willow in turn gazed down at Tara's beauty. The fall had cause her long hair to spread in every direction, fanning out along the snow. Her normally pale features were flushed slightly from the cold while appearing even paler in others, and her lips were parted as she breathed in the chilly night air. Unable to resist temptation, Willow leaned down slowly and tilted her head, pressing her lips against Tara's.

A small gust of cold wind blew up on them, causing the kiss to deepen as Willow shivered and moved closer on top of Tara for warmth. She felt Tara's hand run through her hair as their lips met again and caressed. She opened her mouth further and Tara sighed through her nose, her other hand gracefully moving up Willow's spine beneath her jacket and shirt. Another very cold gust of wind and a long _crrreeaaakk_ of rusty metal broke their heated embrace, both girls turning to see what was the cause of the noise.

"Son of a bitch...", Willow murmured, watching the gate as it now stood open.

Tara was dumbfounded, the fog of lust still not fully gone from her brain. "You mean all we had to do was-"

Willow turned to face her, kissing her for the second time before Tara could finish her sentence. "Shut up," she said with a grin.

Tara nodded. "Well, it w-wasn't all bad."

Willow shook her head in agreement. "It never is when I wind up with you in this position."

They giggled and nuzzled together, placing light pecks on each other lips when a laugh carried through the wind towards them. A crazy, distorted, sick cackle that could have been heard for miles, but couldn't have been less than half the distance of the park away from them. Willow got to her feet in an instant, Tara begrudgingly removing her hand from the soft white skin of Willow's back.

"So, he's here..."

A static-filled voice emanated from inside Willow's jacket, causing the girls to jump from fright. "Willow, Tara? Hav~~_scrshh_~~ound anything yet?"

Willow glanced sheepishly back at Tara, who had the same look on her face. She removed the walkie-talkie from her jacket pocket. "Yeah, we just heard him. We're going to check it out now."

The distinct British accent answered back, "~~ight, Riley and I have ju~~_shh_~~ived at the restaurant."

**15. At the _Steak and Ale_**

"Jeez Giles, wha~~_scrshh_~~ook you so long?" Willow asked over the radio.

Riley looked over at him from his stooped position at the double-doors of the eatery. "I told you Giles, you could have driven a bit faster."

Giles huffed at the remark. "I'll have you both know that these streets are very dangerous right now, this ice is absolutely horrid on a vehicle without four-wheel drive...such as mine."

"What? Gi~~_scrrrrssssssssshhhhhhhh_~~eaking up, I can't he~~_shhh_~~ing you say!"

Giles shook his head, shaking the transistor radio in his hand. "Willow, I'm sorry, you're breaking up. I can't hear you!"

"~~_scrshh_~~what I said...._sigh>_ Over and out."

Giles huffed again and put the radio back in his pants pocket, then flexed his aging fingers in their leather glove coverings. Now he remembered one of the major reasons he'd first enjoyed California. The weather was always nice and sunny, with the occasional rainfall. Snow was a big turn-off in his book.

"The damn lock's not opening," Riley said, getting back to his feet and wincing as he did. His injuries would fade soon thanks to Tara's spelled herbs, but before they did they seemed intent to make themselves known. "We're gonna have to get in the old fashioned way."

Giles frowned. "What's that?"

"A little B&E." Riley replied as he searched for a big enough object to throw at the door.

His frown deepened. "How is breaking and entering old fashioned?"

Riley stopped what he was doing to look up at him. "...Well, I mean...it's just an expression, Giles. Now instead just of standing there you think you can help me out here?"

The Englishman spread his gloved hands wide as snow fell around them. "To do what, Riley? Throw a big rock at the door and hope we get the alarm system in the same shot?"

"Well, it's not like we'd be alerting anyone to our presence, everyone in town is fast asleep, remember?"

Giles stepped closer to Riley. "Right, everyone except for the fellow we're looking for. And seeing what he did to you, wouldn't it be better to find a quiet way inside of the building instead of just charging in?"

Riley looked at him curiously. "I'm all ears for a better way..."

As Giles was opening his mouth something jingled behind them and a voice called out, "I know of a way in there. A real good way."

They both turned quickly to find a handsome twenty-something man staring back at them, leaning against a tree. On one finger a small ring of keys dangled, and he shook it again, making the jingling noise once more before clasping them in his hand. He was looking at them in a bemused fashion.

"Who are you?" Giles asked in a haughty if '_yes, you caught us with our hand in the cookie-jar_' sort of way.

The dark-haired man's smile grew as he stepped forward, crossing his arms authoritatively. "My name's Jack."

Riley limped over to Jack, standing to his full height when he reached the other man, trying to be as menacing as he could in his bandaged state. "Well Jack, it might be a good idea if you just moseyed on your way. This isn't what it looks like, and frankly you don't want anything to do with it. We're after a bad, dangerous man. Understand?"

Something struck Giles and he came over and poked Riley on his bandaged shoulder, making the tall man wince and jump back, grimacing as he shot darts at Giles with his eyes. Giles smiled at him apologetically before turning back to Jack. "You wouldn't happen to be Jack of '_Jack's Steak and Ale_', would you?" Riley's eyes went wide with embarrassment and he looked down at the white ground.

The young man stared at Giles with a blank look on his face and then glanced up. His face brightened into an even wider smile and he looked back at Giles. "No-no, I'm Jack as in Jack's grandson, named of course after my grandfather." He shook his head mockingly at Riley. "Bad, dangerous man my grandfather was. Always leaving the stove on." He turned his gaze back to Giles. "I just got word this weekend that he'd passed away and that I'd have to take care of the place until funeral arrangements were completed."

Giles shook his head in understanding. "Listen, sorry for the straight-forward approach of my friend here, but he is right. We have reason to believe that someone is inside your diner right now."

"Well if you guys are wondering how to get in, how did he?"

"He has ways," Riley piped up from behind Giles.

Jack stood in the cold with them for a moment longer, silently looking them both over. "Alright, I was going to go in anyway." He pointed to Giles. "You come with me," and then shifted his finger to Riley. "You stay."

Riley nodded, still embarrassed, before backing up and to the side so that they could get past him. Jack brushed against him nonchalantly as though he weren't there and he stuck his ringed key in the lock, pressing forward. He then whispered something under his breath and turned the key to the right, the lock sliding out and the door opening. Jack smiled and motioned to Giles before stepping inside.

Giles nodded at Riley and came a bit closer to him, putting the radio in his hand. "Be careful..." he whispered.

The young man smiled and nodded again, jumping a bit to get his blood flowing as he pocketed the device. With that, he lost sight of Giles inside of the diner, listening as Jack locked the door behind them.

* 

Giles was surprised he'd never decided to go here before. It was a quite a nice restaurant really, with the faintest scent of alcohol and burnt meat mixing well against the wide-open space and seventies feel. The walls were layered in gold-colored paint while he could see that the backroom was lime-green. A large mirror covered the bar as usual and many glasses and bottles covered racks on it, their reflective surfaces making the wooden bar itself seem multi-colored, though for the most part it carried a deep brown gleam. Giles half-expected a disco ball to drop down from the ceiling, but none appeared. A full shag carpet covered most of the floor but Giles caught site of a mahogany finish showing out in several places. He breathed in deeply. It was a nice place...holding a slightly morbid air to it, this would be an excellent spot to drown one's self in the sorrows of a wasted life...he'd have to come here more often.

Noticing how immaculately clean everything was, Giles unwittingly removed his glasses to shine them. He looked up when he heard a "harumph" to see Jack staring at him patiently as though waiting for something. "Yes?"

"Your friend? The dangerous one who can walk through walls...where is he?"

Giles shook his head, trying to loose the feeling that was overcoming him. On second thought, it might be a better idea if he stayed away from this place. It carried a bit too much atmosphere for him to handle. "Right, of course. Well, uh...do you have a gun or some sort of protection with you? If you're going to look around as well I wouldn't want to put you in danger."

Jack gave him an odd look and walked over behind the bar, disappearing for a moment before coming back up with a sawed-off double-barreled Remington shotgun. "Here." He tossed the shotgun to Giles, who even surprised himself as he caught it deftly in one hand. He checked to make sure it was loaded before pumping it once to enter the shells into the chamber. Meanwhile, Jack had once again ducked beneath, and now rose up with a magnum in his hand, each slot loaded. "What's this guy look like anyway?"

Giles gave a weak smile. "Large, red suit. Big white beard, and as I've heard apparently very ugly."

Jack stared back at him, confused. "You're chasing a guy dressed up as Santa Claus?"

He nodded. "Something like that. Shall we begin?"

Jack shook his head, his wavy black hair moving with him. "I hate Christmas..."

He walked with Giles over to the door leading to the kitchens and, after taking a deep breath, pushed it open.

**16. Hearing Things**

Dawn came back to the couch and sat down next to Xander, a fresh cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Late-night TV played on the television, though they'd muted it out a while back.

"Where's Anya?" Dawn asked only mildly curious, waiting for her cup to cool down a bit as she ripped open yet another large package of marshmallows. She simply wanted to get her mind off of the possibilities as to what really happened to her mother.

"She's back at the house. When I heard what was going on I left her in bed, figured it was better for all of us that way."

Dawn watched on the muted television as two filthy-looking men in desperate need of shaves started a bar brawl, pulling guns on each other and beginning to tear the place apart with their bullets. Hail softly fell on the windows outside and Dawn couldn't help but enjoy listening to Xander breathing. For some reason it lifted her spirits...

"I've seen this one before," he said, motioning towards the television set. "Watch, I can even tell you what's gonna happen without the sound. See that guy right there, the one with the gun?"

Dawn smirked a little and slid closer to him on the couch. "They all have guns."

"Yeah I know, but I mean the one in the ugly blue shirt. Look, there he goes. See, he and the other guy, the one in the tan shirt, they're gonna have a big shoot-out outside of the bar. They're gonna blow holes in lots of stuff and, you know, cause general havoc."

"Uh-huh," Dawn said in a disbelieving voice. "And who's gonna win?"

"Oh, the tan guy," Xander said, as though it should be obvious. "Then the blue will join his posse' and they'll have another big shoot-out with the Indians at the end."

"Then what? You can't just end a movie with a bunch of dead people."

"Well, then they go back home and the tan guy gets all the chicks and the money while the blue guy gets one chick and a little money and rides off into the sunset with her."

On the television, the man in blue motioned for the man in tan that they should go outside.

"See, I told you. I must've seen this movie like a dozen times now."

Before the man in blue could reach the door the man in tan drew his gun again and shot the other westerner in the back, sending him flying out of the saloon. Dawn laughed loudly as Xander played being shocked.

"Well, this must be the alternate one with the shorter, unhappy ending."

Dawn nodded while still laughing. "Yeah, poor blue guy. He got gypped. No girl, no money, no sunset."

Xander smiled at her and rubbed his hand on her head affectionately. "Yeah. Good thing that's not gonna happen to us."

Dawn's grin faded and she slowly rested her head on his shoulder. "It already has."

Xander shook his head and wrapped an arm around her. "No, don't think that. We're going to be fine, we're going to get Buffy and Joyce back."

"...You promise?"

There was an awful silence that filled the room before Xander said simply, "Yes."

Suddenly, the TV turned the channels on it's own and the station rested on the cartoon, 'The Night the Grinch Stole Christmas', which was already in progress. Mute disappeared off of the screen and the television blared out at them.

"YOU'RE A LIAR, MR. GRINCH; YOU'RE THE KING OF SIMPLE SIIIIIGHTS-"

Xander jumped up off of the couch and, fighting the rage and fear inside of him that said to break the television, instead simply switched it off. He turned to see Dawn looking up at him with wide eyes, but before he could say anything to comfort her something scratched against one of the outside windows. He glanced quickly to find nothing there but darkness.

"I think it's time to check up on the others..." Xander stated, reaching for the walkie-talkie on the table. Dawn nodded as he sat back down next to her and pulled up close to him. On a thought she pulled out the enchanted map Willow had given her and rolled it open. Xander, sitting next to her and also looking at the map, dropped the radio. "Oh shit..."

**17. Discoveries**

The lack of sound on the streets of Sunnydale was really getting on Riley's nerves. Not even a bird chirped in the darkness, and the silence of the snowfall only made things worse. The hail had dropped back a while ago... He was about to start singing to himself when something caught his eye. Whatever it was had just moved into an alley he and Giles had apparently missed when they parked.

Glancing back into the restaurant, Riley noted that Jack and Giles were nowhere to be seen. It looked as though he'd be going solo again.

_Riley..._

The ex-soldier looked back at the alley. Had it simply been the wind? With know visible weapon at hand, Riley forced his nerves up and walked towards the corner. Placing his bandaged hands together like a club (figuring it was better than nothing) Riley turned inwards into the alley, not surprised to find nothing there. Another gust of wind blew a horrid stench into his nose, obviously deriving from the path in front of him.

While it was very narrow, it was looked rather long for an alleyway, concealed by red clay bricks and an over-hanging roof that shrouded everything beneath it in darkness. After about five feet Riley could see nothing. Sticking his hand out, he shivered as he realized that the darkness was so thick that the tips of his finger disappeared inside of it. Quickly pulling forth his Zippo, Riley lit it up for the second time that night. Once again the flame burned upwards, giving him at least the slightest semblance of hope. But his hesitation for stepping into the darkness ended when once again he heard his name on the wind. He took one step forward, then the next.

The first thing he saw was a trash can, overfilled with junk and rotting meat, covered in a layer of what looked to be oatmeal. Upon closer inspection though, the oatmeal was alive and wriggling furiously. So this is where that smell is coming from, he thought. Maggots on meat. A _squeak_ emanated from beneath the maggots, and Riley yelled and jumped back as a rat appeared from beneath the mess. It's face was bleeding and some of the maggots seemed to have taken temporary residence inside the gashes along it's cheeks and body. Utterly disgusted, Riley continued down the alley at a faster pace, the flame from his lighter dancing crazily.

* 

"Oh, this is nice..."

Giles looked over at Jack, who had his back turned to him checking out one of the many meat lockers. Dry ice flowed out in waves as Jack stared at whatever was in the locker, and was covering the linoleum and tile floor. "What is it?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm not really sure. My grandfather was into practical jokes, but this seems a little over the top, even for him."

Giles walked over to him, his loafers squeaking on the clean floor. Upon looking inside Giles stood back in shock. Stuffed in the darkness of one of the lockers was the skinless, burnt body of a man. His neck had been pierced by a hook and as a result he swung lazily from side to side, his feet inches above the ground. Had Giles not been so intent on the man he might of noticed that the entire kitchen floor was now covered in the rolling mist.

Jack sniffed the air. "Huh...that's odd."

Giles followed suit and breathed in the brisk air of the locker. A bit stale as meat lockers went, but nothing to awful or out of the ordinary. Then it dawned on him and he looked quickly at Jack, who had apparently been staring at him. "The body...it doesn't smell."

The young man snapped his fingers as though it was a game Giles had just won. "Bingo. So it must be fake. You just can't cover up the smell of burnt flesh, believe me, I know."

Giles stared at him oddly for a moment, considering something. "Jack...when did you get into town?"

"Just now. I've been driving non-stop from New York. Got my own Deli in Queens, but my girlfriend is taking care of it right now. Why?"

Giles thought for a moment longer. "And you didn't notice anything wrong as you entered town?"

Jack shrugged, looking a bit agitated. "Nah, I mean sure it was a little too quiet for Christmas Eve, but Sunnydale has always been dead, man. Look, what's all this about? Who are you looking for, really?"

Figuring that if he wanted to survive it might be a good idea to tell him, Giles stepped closer. "Listen Jack, it would be for the best if you got to your car and turned around, just leave this place. There's no one around because they've all been put under a spell-"

Jack laughed out loud and started to turn around, but Giles grabbed his shoulder roughly. "Dammit man, listen to what I'm saying! If you don't get out of here right now you are going to die!"

Jack scrinched his nose and shook Giles off. "Sure I am old man, sure thing. But as I see it everyone's gone to bed early which is completely understandable considering where I am and two guys are trying to find a good way to break into the family diner, which as of right now only holds three things out of the ordinary. Those three things being myself, who should be drunk on Egg Nog and boffing my girl silly in N Y, a lunatic who's hunting down Santa Claus and a sick practical joke my Uncle thought would be great for one last laugh; now get the hell-"

Giles frowned. "Your Uncle?"

Jack, caught off guard, stopped ranting and smiled.

* 

_Riley..._

"Who the hell is that?" Riley was certain now that something was calling to him, but he'd been traveling for five minutes straight and the only change since entering the alley was the fact that the darkness seemed to have gotten thicker and the voice louder. He couldn't see anything more then a foot ahead of him. The pavement was an ugly gray with the occasional puddle and the walls on either side of him remained a deep red brick color.

_Riley, come to me..._

"Riley no, run! Get out of here!"

Now he could recognize both voices. They were one and the same...Buffy's.

_Riley, help me...just a little further...Riley, I'm trapped inside of him..._

He stopped walking; the hair on his arms, chest and back rippling in fear. He could smell her. Her perfume was heavy in the air. He took another step forward.

"Riley, NO! Not now!"

_Riley, please...it's so cold in here...I need to be held...you're almost with me_

Something drew him closer. He could hold her, he could do that. And there was another smell here as well. A smell that made his groin tighten and his mouth dry up. He caught the scent of her sex in the air, it's intoxication enchanting him.

_Yes Riley, you want me...I'm here for you_

Something shifted in the darkness ahead of him, and he caught sight of blonde hair and skin. Whatever was in front of him looked surreal, it's shadow moving like a hummingbird's wings.

_Take me, ravish me...just another step..._

_ "_RILEY!!!"

A smile grew on his lips, and as Riley walked on the walkie-talkie came to life in his pocket, static clearly audible.

"Hey Giles, Riley? Anybody there?"

Riley shook his head and fell to his knees in the snow, pressing his hands on his temple. Xander's voice came out at him again, calling out his name. He opened his eyes to see that he was still in his spot next to the door of the _Steak and Ale_. For some reason a line from the film _Skinner_ popped into his mind. Theodore Raimi with his back on the floor looking at Traci Lords as she died and yelling in her ear, "Doesn't it just make you want to SCREAM!"

"Hello? Dawn, I don't think anyone's the-"

"H-hey Xander. What is it?"

"Oh, thank god. What the hell took you so long?"

Riley sighed. "My mind was elsewhere."

"You okay? You sound like shit, man. Dawn, don't listen to me, I didn't say that."

"What's wrong, Xander?"

"Huh? Oh, a couple of things. Will and Tara's spell seems to be working, but isn't looking good. That map Willow put a spell on, it's starting to look like somebody spilled a Bloody Mary on it."

"I don't follow."

"The entire thing is blinking red, every bit of it except for Giles' house."

"I guess his power is growing. All right, I'll tell Giles."

"Where is he?"

"He's in the _Steak and Ale_ with some asshole grandkid of the owner."

"Why aren't you?"

Riley blushed. "It's a long story."

"Okay...well, the other problem we're having is that we can't seem to reach Willow and Tara, all we get is stat-...wait, Giles is in the store with who?"

"Yeah, his name is Jack. He's named after the owner, his grandfather. Real prick."

"That isn't right."

"Tell me about it. I'm freezing my ass off ou-"

"No, I mean it isn't _right_ right. I know the Jack guy who owns the store. He's only got one son and the son is..uh..."

Riley frowned. "Xander, what the hell are you talking about?"

"He's, you know. He's what you do with mouthwash. Like Scope."

"What?!"

Riley heard a frustrated sigh over the phone. "You know that _special_ relationship between Willow and Tara? Well it's like that in reverse."

Riley then heard Dawn ask Xander why he was covering his mouth over the phone. "It's nothing Dawn. Really."

"Xander, if...oh no, I gotta go!" Riley turned off the connection and ran to the doors of the restaurant, yelling in frustration as he remembered that Jack had locked them again. Wishing Giles good luck, Riley ran off to find something suitable to break in with.

**18. Carnival Conciliation and Cotton Candy Cocoons**

Willow and Tara walked along the quiet, paved roads of the fairground. Every few yards streets lamps were placed, which helped to light the way a little. But most of them were dimmed out or fizzing on and off, so that the only truly reliable source of light was the moon above. Willow shivered a little and jumped up and down a few times.

"Urggh, where _is_ he?"

Tara didn't answer. Instead, she gazed up at the moon and then at a nearby hot dog stand. Flies had long since made there way inside the broken glass of the case holding the dogs, and so nothing was inside. But oddly enough the rotator continued to perform it's job. It didn't stop rolling.

"Why haven't they torn this place down?"

Willow, surprised by the question, looked up at her and shrugged. "I don't know. When all this happened the Mayor was still in charge and we'd only heard a few things about him. He probably ordered the place quarantined but made sure nothing got out about it. There wasn't anything in the newspapers..."

Once again they fell into silence, looking around each way, trying to get something on where Kringle could be. But nothing showed. Tara sighed as an owl hooted above and decided to bring up something that had been eating at her. She just needed to know...

"Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"W-what um...What will we do when we f-find him?"

"...Kill him."

"How do you know we can?"

"It isn't about whether or not we can, I have to."

Tara nodded. This had confirmed what she'd been wondering. "_You_ have to."

Willow frowned at her. "We...I meant we."

"But why? Why d-don't we get someone stronger, or wait until we have a b-better opp-"

Her eyes widened and she cut Tara off. "What better opportunity? Who stronger? We had someone stronger but now he has her!"

Tara, in an uncharacteristic burst of emotion, threw her hands up. "All the more r-rr-reason that we need to g-go!"

Willow stopped walking and grabbed Tara's shoulders. "No, we have to save her Tara!"

"...Buffy."

"Yes, Buffy!"

Tara's gaze fell and she pursed her lips. After a moment she looked back at Willow, her eyes red and watery. "Okay." She said, sounding defeated.

She moved to continue walking but Willow wouldn't let her go. She looked at Tara and shook her head, starting to tear up herself. "No, no! What's wrong? What is it?"

Tara shook her head. "D-don't worry, I understand-"

"No, talk to me!"

"You c-care about her a lot, I g-get that."

Then it dawned on Willow. "Tara, what is this? What, you think I care, you think I love her more than I do you, is that it?"

Tara's head stayed down. "I...I understand..."

Willow took the other girl in her arms, holding her tightly. "Man...you really are dumb..."

Tara cried in her jacket, holding her back. Willow kissed the side of her head as she sobbed quietly. "I d-don't want you to d-do this. I don't want you t-to, to wind up like her. I don't want to see you die..."

Willow backed up and gently held Tara's head in her hands, meeting her eyes. "Listen to me. I am _not_ going to die, and neither are you or Buffy. Yes, I love Buffy. The day I met her, that was when I really started living. And yes, I've loved people before. Xander, Oz-"

At this Tara looked down, but Willow dipped her head to catch her gaze again. "-Oz. But then I met you. And I could never and will never love anyone," she choked up, "anyone, as much as I love you. You, you make me feel like every part of me is constantly burning. I can't breathe when I'm not around you. Okay? I **need** you. If anything ever happened to you..."

Tara stared at her, her eyes pleading. Willow knew that she needed to hear this, as painful as it was to think about. "...My world would stop. I would stop loving. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I am for all intents and purposes dead without you."

Tara leaned into her hold and kissed her, shaking. Willow returned it, tasting the salt of both their tears on her tongue. Tara surprised her when she pulled back, but there was a smile on her face that made Willow's heart jump. "I-I'm not going to die."

Willow shook her head and backed Tara up until she was pressed against a small blue and yellow-striped building. It was fairly ratty and looked makeshift. Willow put one hand on her waist and the other behind her head, passionately kissing her. The door to the building was slightly ajar and Willow slid inside, pulling Tara with her.

It had probably been some sort of security booth three years ago, but now this tiny place was simply home to cobwebs, a broken chair and a few patrol batons. And while Willow felt a bit of deja vu', she was more interested in the only other living thing here that didn't have eight legs, Tara. She pressed her mouth against Tara's lips, her tongue snaking between as her lips parted and she felt the girl's teeth.

Willow growled only somewhat playfully and rubbed up closer to Tara, who for the second time that night had her hands up Willow's jacket and shirt. She wanted to tell Willow that they shouldn't be doing this, that they should be looking for Kringle. But she was afraid that Willow might agree with her and stop running her fingers over Tara's waist. She rolled her tongue along with Willow's, basking in the heat they were creating in each other.

Willow smiled as they kissed and moved one hand up underneath Tara's sweater and bra, cupping her breast in the small of her hand. Tara let out a deep sigh and pressed her head against the wall, moving it from side to side with her eyes closed as Willow traced her hand along Tara's nipple. Willow grinned at her reaction and drew in to suck on her jugular as she tweaked her sensitive nub.

The girls were in fact, so caught up in each other that they didn't notice the door slowly pull shut, locking in a small _click._ Now they were in almost complete darkness save for streams of moonlight shining through slats above.

_ssssliiick...._

"W-Willow?" Tara called in a throaty whisper.

The redhead murmured something from the crook of Tara's neck.

_sssslliiiiiick...._

"Willow, I th-think...oh, I think we're in trouble."

Her tongue running below Tara's ear, Willow opened her eyes. Her hand was still on Tara's breast as she gazed at her. "What?"

_ssssscllaaaaack...._

"Do you hear that?" Tara asked, both frightened at the sound and lustful at Willow's touch.

Willow looked down at the floor where the sound was coming from, than suddenly reached her hands around to Tara's back and pulled her out of the way as the something on the ground began to slither towards them. They withdrew their hands from each other and Willow pointed to what she saw. Strands of something pink and hairy were growing all over the floor, seeming to materialize straight from the murky puddles of water. They could only see so much through the slats above.

"Willow, the door!"

Willow nodded and jumped over to the wooden door, but it took very little struggling to know that it wasn't going to open. She banged her arm against it in frustration.

"Willow!"

She looked back as Tara shuddered in fright. The pink material was wrapping itself tightly around her legs and hands, tying her up. Though the girl rolled and tore at the pink vines they continued to course around her. By the time Willow got back over to try and help her, Tara's mouth was already gagged. One of the forms snaked itself around Willow's angle and yanked so hard she fell, which made it all the more easy for them to take her.

In only a matter of seconds the girls were cocooned, their only source of air coming from slight holes in the pockets of the pink material. A cord shot up from each of their wrappings, latching themselves around the slats above, so that now Tara and Willow dangled off the floor, mummified.

The door creaked back open and something large shambled in. It breathed in heavily and was obviously trying to fit itself completely into the room to no avail.

A gruff, almost wet voice spoke then. "I'll just stay right here...heh-heh, so precious."

Willow knew who this was. She'd never heard him speak before, but she knew it was him.

"Naughty, naughty girls...I saw you with my thousand eyes...you aren't getting any gifts this year, dirty girls don't get presents. Eh-heh, HO-HO-HOOO!"

A large hand ran up and down Willow's wrapping.

"I'll only need one of you, the other I think will enjoy it here. So peaceful, so quiet. The dead don't act up, they're good boys and girls all year 'round, but I can't give them any goodies! No, because they're dead!" He howled with laughter at this, but stopped short before coughing up something that splattered onto the floor below. Willow thanked her goddess that the attacking vines had covered her eyes.

"Yes, my job is difficult like that. So many rules to follow, so much work to do. But no more! Tonight, I ride!" He roared, and with that Willow heard what could only have been the cord holding Tara in the air snapping, then the _thump_ of her love falling to the floor.

"Ah yes, the bigger of the two. Perhaps, yes perhaps Diablo will not mind if I take a bit of her myself before the sacrifice. So very youthful, and surely not unblemished. No, this one's been tainted."

His finger poked Willow hard enough that she swayed.

"You've ruined her, witch. You took her innocence. Now, it's my turn."

She heard scraping and dragging, but before the door creaked shut she heard him turn back. "You were never on my list. This one here I've got, she was. But you, I don't like you. I'll come back next year and eat what's left of you."

The door slammed shut, leaving Willow in darkness.

**19. Brawl of the Barfly**

The old man was as taken aback by Jack's strange smile as he was when Jack's fist slammed into his cheekbone. His feet left the floor and his vision blurred as he entered the swirling fog below. Jack laughed and kicked the oldie hard in the side. So forceful was the kick that he slid across to another part of the kitchen, disappearing in the rolling mist. Jack smiled and pulled out his gun, cocking it and walking over to where the other man had slid. There were no shadows in the fog that gave away his presence. Jack's grin faltered as he heard the sound of a gun being picked up. The shotgun... "All right you bastard," he yelled, "I'll admit it, I shouldn't have given you a weapon! But I'd been-" He turned another corner. Still nothing. "-expecting my associate to arrive sooner. As you can probably tell, he's a little late."

Giles, on his hands and knees, crawled to another counter. A few yards away he heard Jack yell in rage and start throwing pots and pans, one of which landed next to him. "Where's the real Jack?", He ventured, not really wanting to know but all too happy to lead Jack straight around the corner into the sight of his sawed-off.

Jack laughed and shrugged. "Depends on which Jack," he explained as he centered in on the Englishman's voice. "My name really is Jack, but I'm not his grandson. From what I gather the real Jack's son was what you might call a filthy faggot, and would never have a son of his own." No, he couldn't just walk around the corner of the counter, his enemy would be expecting that.

Giles was getting nervous. He realized that it may not have been such a good idea to relay his position. Had he remained silent he might've been able to sneak up on Jack. But now he had no idea where the other man was, only that he was nearby. "And what about the body in the freezer?"

Jack chuckled lightly. "I haven't the slightest idea who that is. This is Sunnydale after all, full of dead people. I simply came for the fun of it all. Make things harder for my associate."

He guessed that Jack meant Kringle. His voice seemed to be coming from everywhere on the other side of the counter. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Oh, don't you know, old man? He's retiring tonight. It's his last ride before he gets his paycheck and pension. And this is going to be the most important night the world has ever known..."

Giles was sweating. He didn't like where this was going and to make matters worse, not only was the fog rising to unnatural heights, there were shadows moving with it. Lots of them. "What are you talking about?", he asked, now very interested in the conversation.

"Oh, ho-ho no you don't. I've said enough already. And just for the record, what's your name?" Jack peered over the edge.

Giles got a fix on the voice. It was coming from above him. Looking up, he saw that Jack had gotten on top of the counter and had crawled his way over to Giles, and was now staring intently down at him. "My name is Rupert Giles," he whispered.

Jack nodded, raising the gun to his head. "Ah. Sorry about the trouble Giles. Someone will be along to guide you shortly. I hear Hell's a very nice place this time of year."

Suddenly he screamed in pain and raised the gun. Giles quickly jumped to his feet and saw what had made him scream. A rat the size of computer monitor was also on the counter, biting on the flesh of his leg. Giles raised the shotgun, but Jack heard the sound and kicked out with the leg the rat was on. Giles fired and accidentally shot the rat, one half of it flying off into the fog and the other landing on the counter. It shot blood in both of their faces.

Jack fell off of the counter and vanished, while Giles felt a few nips at his pant-legs and decided it was about time to get out of the kitchen. As the mist was now waist high Giles leaped up onto the counter, pumping new shells into the gun. There were only about six shots left in the thing, which meant that he'd have to conserve ammo by not shooting every rat he saw. At least until he got back to the bar in the main room and found another gun. He hoped.

Suddenly a hand came out from the mist and grabbed at his pants leg. Giles grimaced and fired down into the fog. No good, he heard the bullets bounce off the floor. He heard Jack laugh and scamper off. But now it was Giles' turn to laugh as he followed Jack's shadow. There were about nine other shadows honing in on him quickly. Giles jumped from one countertop to the next, his gaze shifting from the double-door exits to Jack's shadow to the counters around him, making sure he didn't have any company.

The fog was now counter-high, and Giles smiled grimly as he heard Jack shout in pain. But his smile faded quickly as a scrabbling sound resounded behind him. Turning, he saw the next over-sized rat. He swung the shortened shotgun like a club, connecting with the rodent and sending the ghastly thing sprawling off. Giles grinned. He could take this. Bring it on. He turned again and, forgetting about Jack (who had grown silent), took the next two counters in stride. He was only three away from escape.

Two more rodents jumped up on either side of him, baring their teeth and growling. Blood and maggots fell from their sides, their faces looking more like rotten cut-up meat then that of any animal. Giles hit the one to the left side so hard that it's scalp tore off, exposing brain matter. It looked dazed for a moment before falling off. Getting a little trigger happy, Giles turned and waited for the other rat to leap through the air at him until he fired his gun and blew it's insides all over a nearby meat locker.

But ice filled his stomach and loins as he returned to his course. The countertops had disappeared, the fog was too high and was rising higher by the second. How could he jump across to the next one? _Okay, calm down Rupert, calm down. How many steps did you take before?_

A rat much larger than the previous ones jump right in front of him and bit savagely Giles in the ankle. He cursed and stepped on it's back, pumping the gun before blowing the creature away. _Five, five steps to each counter._ And the rat had just given away to him where the first end was. Giles took a deep breath and jumped.

One foot in the air, then the next, one foot on solid counter-top, then the next.

Giles let out a sigh. Two more to go. Another two rats took butts in the head before Giles could begin counting. _1, 2, 3-_

Scrabbling of paws sounded all around him, and Giles looked down to see an innumerable amount of gnarled claws reaching from the fog at the counter. Going for broke, Giles jumped again as he heard the countertop he was just on swarm over with the animals. Again his feet landed solidly. The fog was now once more up to his waist and the double-doors at the end were about to disappear. He had a bad feeling of what might happen to him if they did so before he got through them.

Two more bites were taken out of his legs and Giles went haywire. Firing left and right, the aging man covered himself in blood, constantly counting down the shots until he only had one left, then turned and took one more leap. He had, of course, jumped early. His right foot glanced off the counter and his left one didn't even come close. He fell into the mist and felt the back of his head slam into the floor. Squeaking came from all around him, and he rose to his feet warily, his head aching as much as his bloody legs. They were surrounding him now, running along and trying to circle him.

Giles ran forward until he felt something _whoosh_ in the air and latch onto his shoulders, it's jaws closing around his neck. He shouted and leapt backwards desperately, feeling strangely satisfied at the sound of breaking bones and thick liquid soaking through his jacket to his back. Rising again, he yelled at the top of his lungs and jumped in the air as he felt them close in, running on the floor or vaulting off the tops of counters. He sailed through the air, pulling the trigger once more as he careened through the double-doors of the kitchen onto the fluffy shag carpet he'd been admiring so much just a short while ago.

Sure enough, none of the fog spilled out after him.

Gasping for breath, Giles got up on unstable legs and made his way to the bar; checking underneath he saw nothing in the way of ammo, but instead something else that seemed excellent right now. A Jack Daniel's on one of the bottom shelves. He grinned slightly and took the bottle and a small shot-glass off the mirror rack. Turning his aching back and placing it on the edge of the bar, Giles gazed into his reflection between the racks of alcohol and clear empty glasses. Gaunt, ragged, scared shitless. Something occurred to him, and not for the first time. He was too old for this type of thing. It was getting to him.

At closer inspection of the mirror, Giles let the bourbon slip from his grasp and fall crashing to the floor below. Situated at one of the tables at the back, Jack pointed his magnum at Giles. His feet were rested upon the tabletop and his other hand was wiping at a gash on his forehead.

"Nice to see you again, Mister Giles."

_Please turn cassette to Side B_


	4. Night Out - Side B

_Continued from Side A_

"You're good sir, I'll give you that. It's a shame I have to kill you, but hey," Jack gave him a handsome, winning smile as he swung his feet off the top of the table and stood up, "That's the way things go."

Giles' eyes shifted nervously as he searched the room for anything to aid in his dilemma. Nothing caught his attention except for an odd wooden slat in the ceiling above him.

"Sorry friend," Jack said, noticing his quick glances, "I'm not seeing much of a choice here for you. Now you can duck or dodge, generally run around so it's a harder shot for me; or you can put your hands in the air and take a bullet in the head, sweet and simple. Either way your ass is grass, and this gun's gonna mow you down."

Giles nodded, raising his hands in the air slowly.

"That's a boy." Jack pulled the trigger and Giles ducked down and to the left, the bullet blowing a hole above the mirror behind him. He took a glass off of one rack and tossed it at the gunman. It hit Jack square in the forehead and caused his second shot to once again go off target, blasting off some wood chipping on the bar. Oddly enough, the pressure of the bullet caused a section of the counter to slide back mechanically, revealing a small red button.

Jack had his hand on his forehead, which was once again bleeding. "Ow! Damn it, man!" His eyes turned from Giles to what the Brit was looking at; the button. He shrugged, pointing his gun to it and suggesting that Giles go for it.

Figuring that he didn't have any better options, Giles let his finger rest on the button and nudged it inwards. The slat he'd seen earlier opened up, and a small submachine gun fell out from within, landing at his feet behind the bar. He looked back up at Jack.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, both apprehensive of what the other would now do. Giles suddenly dove to the ground behind the cover of the bar counter, Jack firing off two more shots in trying to get him before he landed. He knew better then to run up to the bar as it would be suicide, but the older man would have to come up some time.

Giles took a deep breath, crawling a bit further down to the other side of the counter, the Uzi in one hand. Summoning up his courage, he stood up and turned around.

Jack fired again once he saw Giles reappear, but his aim was a bit off and he was forced to start running as Giles unleashed a torrent of bullets. He fired as he ran, beer and shot-glasses spraying shards all over Giles, the mirror behind the racks blowing out and tinkling all over the bar. In turn, Giles' submachine gun took out quite a good deal of picture frames and bottles of ketchup and A1 sauce on the tables Jack was running in between. The magnum's final bullet nicked the old man in his shoulder and he cried out, his gun chattering a few rounds into Jack's left leg, which was still sore from the rat bite. Blood splattered onto the ground beneath both of them, Giles backing up and destroying what was left of the rack and Jack wincing at his shredded leg, falling to the floor.

Everything grew quiet. Jack thought for a moment that his shot had taken his opponent in a vital area, but then heard the clinking of shattered glass being stepped upon, and Giles' head appeared over the top of the bar once again. Jack breathed out in a rush and clicked his empty gun uselessly at Giles.

The ex-Watcher walked out slowly from behind the bar, one hand keeping the Uzi carefully aimed at Jack while the other tended to his wounded shoulder.

For some reason Jack smiled up at him. "I guess it's just your lucky day."

Giles tightened his grip on the Uzi's trigger. "I guess it's not yours."

"You gonna shoot me?"

"I don't see why not."

Jack nodded his head to something behind Giles. "I don't think she'd care much for it."

Giles frowned and, keeping the gun trained on Jack, turned. Jenny Calendar stared back at him. He gasped, raising a hand up in the air to touch her. Something in his mind blocked out the sword in her hand. At least until she placed one hand on his shoulder and thrust the long blade deep into his stomach with the other, it's end rising out of his back. His breath sucked out of his lungs and Giles gave her a betrayed, hurt look before falling to the ground.

Jack sighed and stood up shakily. "It's about time you got here. Who's that supposed to be, his daughter?"

"A past love..." She said in a whisper.

Jack looked down at Giles approvingly. "Way to go, grampa!" He moved his eyes back to the Jenny-thing. "Where's your brother?"

The thing looking like Jenny rippled the contours of her face until it revealed her true form, that of a quite beautiful fairy. "He will be along shortly. He is taking care of the revenge demon and treating his wounds from the Summer's house. He was not informed that it was to be destroyed until it was almost too late for him."

Jack wiped off his shirt and pants, then gave her a patronizing look. "Gosh, that's too bad Jeneva. Maybe if you two would keep up with us then we wouldn't run into these problems."

Jeneva's pale blue skin turned a shade darker and her long pointed ears curled back. She withdrew her sword from the body and wiped the blood off of the sides of her blade onto Jack's right pant-leg.

Jack smirked. "Thank you, Je'. I appreciate your maturity in this situation. Now what the hell's taking Nicholas so long?"

Her wings fluttered a bit at his name and she rose a foot off of the ground, looking down at her kill. "The large one brings a sacrifice with him."

He nodded. "And what of the artifact?"

She closed her large, ice-blue eyes and concentrated for a moment. "He has retrieved it."

Jack grinned. "That," he said, running a finger down Jeneva's bare thigh, "is excellent."

She looked down upon him, no readable expression on her face. "Someone comes this way."

Jack nodded and stooped, hooking his arms underneath the dead form of Giles.

"Wait."

He looked up at her, curious. She bent down and placed a kiss on Giles' cooling forehead. Her face and body twitched for a moment before she shifted again, her body becoming an exact replica of Giles'. "Thank you..."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't wear that face for too long Jeneva, you wouldn't want it to stick." With that said, he pulled Giles out of sight into the kitchen. The fairy could hear him commanding the rats back as the fog captured his form.

* 

Taking a deep breath, Riley rushed at the entrance, hoping on hope that the glass wasn't too thick. When he'd built up enough force he skidded to a halt in the snow, letting the fire extinguisher fly out from his grasp and soar through the air towards the door. He was rewarded with a loud crash, and smiled when no alarm went off. Edging through, Riley's heart stopped when he saw the wreckage that lay before him.

"Hello?"

An English accent._ Giles!_ Riley looked around the room as he stepped completely inside, trying not to cut himself on the glass of the doorway. His friend was nowhere in sight.

"Giles, it's Riley. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Riley, thank goodness. Jack isn't who he says he is!"

Riley nodded, trying to place where the voice was coming from. "I know. Where are you?"

"I'm in the back, he's got me tied up. Hurry, before he returns!"

Riley finally caught onto where the sound emanated from. A room to the back with ugly green walls Riley could see through porthole window in the single door.

"Okay, I'm coming in!" He pushed open the door and stepped into the ugly room. A loud crack resounded, along with the sound of a body slumping to the floor.

**20. Sleigh Ride**

In the darkness of the patrol equipment booth, Willow had stopped screaming in frustration and had formed a plan. She had been swinging from one side to the other for a full two minutes, and could now feel the strings attached to her struggling to keep their hold. She swung to the left and then to the right, constantly picking up momentum in her tight cocoon.

But then an unexpected sound reverberated off of the walls, ringing sweetly in her ears. It was the sound of creaking slats about to break in two. Her endeavors increased and her stamina felt renewed. From somewhere in the distance Tara screamed, meaning the Kringle must have removed the pink material, or at least the part covering her mouth. Willow buried the rage inside of her, saving it for a time she knew would come later.

Suddenly the wooden slat above broke and she fell to the floor below. She quickly rolled over to a wall and balanced herself on it until she had enough leverage to hop to her feet. She jumped backwards, then rammed her body forward. The coating was, as she hoped very strong, and it took in most of the blow, allowing her to put more effort in. The building she was in shook and leaned to one side before coming back down on all fours.

Meaning that there was nothing keeping the small room connected to the ground. Willow hopped backwards again and again she leapt at the wall, hitting it with all her strength. Only this time she remained there against it, adding the weight and pressure to the unstable side. It toppled over seconds later, bringing her with it.

Knowing that she was running out of time, Willow crawled forward in the now narrow space until she felt what had just been the ceiling brush along the cocoon. Before she could consider her next move, the wrapping around her began to shake. Unsure of what was going on, Willow stopped moving and was surprised when the pink along her eyes removed itself. Quickly followed by the pink on her mouth neck and chest, until the entire cocoon had broken up. Willow watched in wonder as it slithered out of the hole she'd made when breaking the wood paneling.

The jingling of bells not far in the distance caught her ear and Willow peaked through the hole to see if she could find where it was coming from. Not fifty yards away, high in the air, Santa's sleigh was soaring towards the upturned building. She could see two figures sitting in it. He was going to ram the booth!

Willow backed away and turned so that her feet were now placed against to wood and began to kick as hard as she could. The boards bent, and a few looked worse than they had before, but none of them broke apart. She could now hear the bells much closer. She estimated about twenty more seconds would pass before Kringle destroyed the booth with her inside of it. Willow frantically searched the small room for anything the could help her plight before looking up and spotting the door. A quick examination of the handle told her that it wasn't going to open, but with the small amount of light provided by the broken slat something gleamed and snared her focus. At what had once been the floor of the room a metal pick stuck of the lining.

She grabbed it out of the side and jabbed it into the doorknob's keyhole, trying desperately to forced the lock back. On one harsh turn the pin snapped, Willow shouting in fury and tossing it aside. She had about ten seconds left. If only she knew a spell that could unlock doors! Her heart jumped and her pulse raced. She didn't know of anything that could be said to unlock the door, but she had caused a pen to float before. And roses, plates, even (with Tara's help) a washing machine. Closing her eyes, Willow pictured the lock and concentrated.

* 

Kris hooted joyously as the air whipped around him, blowing his smog-colored beard into his face. He'd boarded the sled with the girl, tearing off a chunk of the cotton candy from her mouth so that he could savor both the taste of sugar and the sound of her screams as he launched into the air. But when he'd looked back, about to fly off to another destination, he saw the small equipment booth holding the other witch tumble over. Unable to resist the chance to see a young woman smeared across the pavement and to once again have fresh blood stained on his sled, Kristopher had turned the slay about face and was now mere yards away from the wooden stall.

On a last minute thought he tore the candy off of the girls eyes so that she could watch her lover's demise.

* 

Willow's mind ached as she felt the lock snap back and grappled at the doorknob, hope filling her as it finally gave way. Throwing it open she stood and grabbed at the sides of the door, pulling herself up and out. She jumped just seconds before the sleighs' steel and wood legs demolished the tiny room.

Just clear of the blast, Willow picked up a patrol baton that had been blasted next to her and got up, running after the sleigh, which she noticed had a line of Christmas bulbs hanging from it. It was still too high for her to reach, but it had slowed down for some reason. She ran along the left of the air-vehicle and looked for anything she could climb in the amusement part that would get her to their height. And up ahead, about half the distance of a football field away stood a Ferris Wheel.

Looking up she saw Tara struggling in her cocoon. Still running, she cupped her hands around her mouthed and yelled out, "Slow him down!" Without any way of knowing if Tara heard her, Willow ran for the tall wheel.

* 

Once Kris saw that the girl had gotten out he knew he'd made a mistake. He should've simply left, but now his sleigh was acting up, a piece of a broken chair stuck in the left leg. The worst of it all was that his concentration on keeping the damned contraption in the air was being broken by his nubile captive beside him, whispering in a language he hadn't heard in centuries. He caught a few words such as sacrifice and burn, but figured that she was smart enough to know better than to set fire to him as he was controlling the vehicle they were in.

But as he bent down to regulate the air flow by removing the broken chair piece, Santa sniffed the air, smelling smoke. Tilting the sled to one side he pulled the debris free and threw it downwards before looking back up at the girl. He laughed when he saw her intent. The cotton candy wrapping at her legs was on fire and was quickly burning away to nothing. Looking out at the ground, he saw her partner run into a Ferris Wheel control booth, perhaps intent on starting the old thing up again. Maybe he could have some fun with these two after all...

* 

Willow pulled at the lever and for the first time that night something went her way, the cobwebs and dust now illuminated as the wheel powered back up. Lights of green, yellow and red shined with fluorescence, and Willow spotted the rotation gauge. She set the speed to the highest possible limit and left the control room swinging her baton.

Snow and trees limbs partially obstructed her view, but Willow could just make out the sled in the air by the top of the Ferris Wheel. _This could work... _The wheel now brightly lit up with lights, Willow took hold of one of the seats while leaving half of her body hanging out as it rose up into the freezing air.

From her viewpoint Willow observed the dark green trees surrounding the fair as they were swayed and buffeted in the wind, and briefly she felt a peace before the storm. Her body breathing slowly as she tried to calm herself, the seat she was on rotating on course and lifting into the night sky; there was something to be said for silence when all one experienced was constant tension and danger.

Soon she was a third of the way to the top, and Willow focused her attention on the sleigh. She could see Tara (now out of her cocoon as well) trying to maintain balance while jumping from the back to the front, in and out of Kringle's grasp. She couldn't make out their faces just yet, but the fat man's aggravations and curses were now audible in the air.

Finally her seat came to near the highest point, and Willow noticed it would be an easy jump. The sleigh was positioned just a few feet from the top. _Convenient_, she thought. Turning her gaze back on the sled, Willow saw that Tara was yelling something at her, but the wind drowned out most of it.

"Will...it.....ick!"

She frowned and looked at Kringle, who smiled back at her. Knowing that time was of the essence, she leaned back, held her breath and leaped forward off of the seat. For just a second she felt weightless, her body fluid and straight. Then she realized what she'd fallen for.

The sleigh shot forward in the air, leaving Willow suspended in the air before her hands and legs began cartwheeling and her breath left her lungs. The ground seemed so far away, and without thinking she let the baton slip out of her fingers. She fell down at an incredible rate, and she felt that this was the end before a cord swinging crazily in the air smacked her across the face, and on impulse she grabbed on. She noticed what she was holding. The light cord she'd seen earlier, tightly roped around one of the sled's legs. Her sudden weight had caused the vehicle to dip perilously to one side, and looking up she saw that Tara was now forced to hang onto Kringle so she wouldn't fall.

It all seemed too lucky until Willow started feeling the consequence of latching onto a cord tied to bulbs. The popped and crackled in her hands, blood streaming down onto her wrists. And to make matter worse, the sleigh was back up to full speed, the amusement park behind them vanishing in the distance, and acres upon acres of forest beneath her. Cautiously, grimacing and suppressing screams from the pain in her hands, Willow began to climb the line.

Above, Tara was now trying to level out the weight on the sleigh so it would be easier for Willow to climb, but quickly realized that it was useless. With both Willow and a fat man four times her size on one side and only her on the other, Tara could only grab onto the repulsive man and hope he didn't for some reason see it fit to throw her off. But Santa for the moment was more interested in getting the _other_ damn witch off his ride. This was his final night after two milleniums of work, and there was no way he'd have her ruin it. On the other hand, he'd never had this much fun...

Willow was not of the same opinion, hanging precariously from one hand as she bit shards of glass out with her other. Her short red hair blew crazily behind her and the cold wind had caused her face to blanch almost completely white. She switched hands, careful to put the one she'd just de-glassed in between two bulbs while she performed the same operation with the other, all the while pulling herself upwards.

Kristopher decided to go for the root of the problem and stopped rummaging around in his enchanted coat for a gun. Instead, he pulled out a long blade, Tara's eyes growing wide when she saw it. He noticed her reaction and laughed loud and long, then shot his elbow into the side of her head. Her arms still around him, Tara lost consciousness. He grinned and looked back down, about to cut the line holding her up. He gasped as a finger gouged itself into his right eye, blood and pus flowing down along Willow's fragile wrist. She grimaced in disgust and pulled herself up onto the sleigh, keeping her finger in the howling man's eye.

Unfortunately, Willow was unaware of how a magic sled worked. The owner had to have at last some concentration on keeping the vehicle in the air, otherwise it would plummet to the ground. And as Santa Claus was completely focused on the pointer finger stuck in his eye, that's exactly what they began to do. Willow turned and gave a shocked yelp at their predicament before withdrawing her finger.

But the sleigh continued to fall, and Willow's mind screamed at her as trees whisked by beneath them and they steadily lost altitude. _C'mon, clear the forest, clear the forest, clear the-_

The sled almost made it out of the forest, but as it entered the residential area just outside of it one of the tops of the last trees slammed into the bottom of the sled, causing Willow, who was the only one not holding onto something heavy, to fly clear out into the open. She caught the cord again and while it broke her fall partially it snapped in half before the the air-vehicle could crash, and she fell into a large pile of icy snow.

Looking up, she screamed as the sleigh crashed to the ground, but the scream caught in her throat as she watched it fly _into_ the snowy street, disappearing from sight. It took her a few moments to build up the strength to get to her feet, but once she did she stumbled over to the spot where the sleigh had vanished. A black scorch-mark was all that remained.

Willow looked at where she was. _21st and Maple_. Only a few streets down from the _Steak and Ale_. It didn't matter to her that she had survived the fall, or that the sled hadn't crashed, or that the remains of a broken walkie-talkie were clinking around in her jacket. All that she could think about now was that Tara was in the hands of evil...

**21. Road Trip (It's All Downhill From Here)**

"I know what I'm doing..."

Dawn looked over at him nervously. A word hadn't been spoken since they'd left Giles' house. "I-I'm sure you do. It's just that they told us to stay there..."

Xander shook his head. "No way, I gotta know they're all right and I couldn't just leave you there. Besides, Will's spell may not have lasted much longer."

"We could've waited it out instead just jumping into danger!"

"Yeah, and that was a great plan until everybody stopped answering the radio calls. Now we go to plan B. Which is basically the oppos-"

"Xander, look out!"

Xander hit the breaks and fish-tailed the car on the slippery road, a flash of a lithe, red-headed figure passing through the windshield. When the car stopped, Xander opened the car door and dizzily stepped out, searching for the person he'd almost hit. "Willow?"

"No, it's me Xander." Anya stepped into the headlights of the Buick, looking a bit distressed. "You just about blind-sided me."

He nodded, the stunned look not leaving his face. "Anya I'm sorry, but what are you doing out here? I left you at the apartment."

She nodded, stepping closer so they wouldn't have to yell over the wind. "I know, but I was worried. I didn't know where you'd gone...I checked around, but..."

He nodded, motioning for her to come closer. He embraced her, then moved so she could get into the car.

Once all three were inside, Xander shut the door and turned back on the right path.

"Where are we going?" Anya asked, giving Dawn a strangely happy grin. Then again, Anya was strange.

"Jack's Steak and Ale, it's a restaurant off of Maple."

"Oh..."

Xander loosened up his shoulders and pressed his foot further on pedal, speeding down the dark, blustery road. Something was wrong about this situation, something deeper than the obvious. But he couldn't put a finger on it...

**22. Preparations**

Jack sighed, pressing his back against the wall of the meat locker. He'd taken off his black leather jacket and now stood in a gray silk shirt (which was tucked into his black Dockers) and loafers, which he had removed from the Englishman's wardrobe.

Giles had been his name...the Englishman who had given him so much trouble, almost ruining everything for him. His corpse now hung on one of the hooks next to the burnt body without any smell. Jack had touched it and it seemed real, but still there was no smell. Odd to be sure, but he could really care less.

He checked his watch again and gave a small grunt of impatience. Diablo would be displeased with all of them if Nicholas and Sethiroph took much longer getting back. He didn't dislike any of his partners, and he'd known the Saint for quite some time now, back when he was acting as a mercenary, giving away faulty toys that caused many an epidemic. And while he'd taken nicely to the two elven/fairy Shape-stealers, they held a certain adroitness for taking their sweet time completing even the most mundane of objectives. Nicholas at least had an excuse. Old age was finally getting to him.

White mist floated around him and caressed against his skin, drawing his mind away from the horrors of the workplace. Ice; frozen, cold, yet unduly compelling. He fancied himself the same. It fit his namesake after all... He brushed back his full head of hair and listened for any activity outside of the door.

"You won't get away with this." The old man was staring at him from his place on the hook, a bit of blood now dripping off of his white lips.

Jack gave him a full smile, showing off the pearly whites of his enamel. "You had to get that in, no?"

"Buffy...is the chosen one...she will destroy you."

"Who, that cute little button old red man's got in his stomach? Sure thing pal, I'll keep an eye out for her." Jack said in a sarcastic tone.

"Riley will...free her."

Jack shook his head. "Wrong again, I think this is why you're stuck on a hook with a sword wound running through your gut and I'm wearing you shoes. You were foolish enough to fall for what couldn't of possibly been, and now you're foolish enough to rely on a guy we're either gonna use as an alternate sacrifice or a mindless soldier. Either way, this world is finished." Jack spread his arms wide in the air. "It's time for a little chaos, bloodshed...and Frost." He grinned at this. "Yes, Frost."

He pulled out a button with a pin on it from his pants and stuck it into Giles' cold chest. "I'm you're number one guy, remember that..."

He was startled when he realized the door to the locker was open and another Giles was looking at him from the doorway. "Who are you conferring with?" Jeneva asked, her monotone personality making Giles sound dull and disinterested.

Jack patted the body, causing it to sway back and forth a little. "My buddy Rupert, the British corpse. We were just discussing politics."

Jeneva/Giles nodded. "The ample one has arrived."

"Oh, well why the hell didn't you tell me before?" Jack grabbed his jacket off a nearby hook and exited the locker, not giving Giles another look.

* 

"Jack, you don't belong here." The voice crackled and scratched on Jack's nerves, but he was used to it by now.

"I'm here for you, old man. Thought I'd see you in action, give you a ha-Jesus, what the fuck happened to your eye, Nick?!"

Nicholas grumbled, waddling his way over to a sink in the kitchen. The rats and smoke were no longer present. "Witch," he said before turning on the sink with two fat, dead, ugly fingers and running some water over his wound.

"Your right one!"

"No, no you idiot, witch! A witch did this to me!"

Jack was confused. "A witch cast a spell on your eye?"

"No," he said, his face still hung over the sink as fresh blood poured out along with flesh, leaves and other things of which Jack couldn't quite discern in the mess. "She poked it out."

"With her finger?!"

"Of course."

Jack was unsure of how to go about this. Nicholas had never been this seriously wounded before. He'd once set off a toy that had blown off a few toes, but he'd just sown those back on. Didn't even need to enchant them...

"Jesus, Nick... Well, where's the artifact and the sacrifice you picked up?"

"Jeneva's watching them in the main room. Go there, I'll follow shortly."

Jack nodded, knowing when and who to follow orders from. He smiled a little, trying to find some humor in the situation. "She poked you good, huh?"

Nicholas grunted. "Bitch."

Jack chuckled and left out into the dining room, where he saw Jeneva/Giles over-looking something at a table in the center of the room. He crept up silently on her and was about to grab her/Giles' backside when she spoke to him. "He grows old and reckless."

The moment ruined, Jack sighed and came alongside her. The sacrifice was nowhere to be seen, but on the table stood a small black hand-carved stone depicting a screaming blonde chick holding a snarling dog over her head. The artifact... "Yeah, well there's nothing to worry about. As soon as your brother apprehends the key we can all get out of here, and Nick can go into a happy retirement. Get himself a nice eye-patch."

She looked at him with Giles' features. "And then you will play your angle, yes?"

Jack gave her a dirty look. "I resent that. I'm in this for the fun of it all. There's no ulterior motive."

"I'm sure..."

"Hey, why don't you-..." Jack cut himself off, not wanting to get into an argument with an agile fairy that enjoyed skewering her enemies. "You know what, forget it. Where's the damn sacrifice?"

"I've tied her up in the back, next to the male."

Before Jack could check her out Nicholas appeared from the kitchens, black bows acting as a temporary patch. "You're to leave immediately, Jack. Despite the enjoyment your company brings to me, you're a liability. Take the offerings and the artifact to Diablo, tell him I'm waiting for the Sethiroph and that I will have the key shortly."

Jeneva stepped forward, morphing back to her true form. "I will stay and wait for my brother."

He looked her over. "I don't need you."

"You are mistaken. I and my sibling have helped bring down the associates of the Key, and the rest will be arriving soon. I have obtained a form that they trust."

"I'll dispose of them myself," Nicholas growled.

Jack was shocked when the elf/fairy stepped even closer to him, her wings fluttering furiously. "I can not trust your actions, you have let yourself become wounded, you have let the key escape and you have destroyed your transportation mod-"

"You crashed the sled?!" Jack cried in shock. "Oh dammit Nick, what's u-"

"Silence!" The man in dirty-red ordered in his rough, broken-pipe voice. He was obeyed for the moment. "Now I retrieved the artifact from the house of mirrors in the Sunnydale Carnival grounds. I destroyed the house the Key resided in. I have spread the power of Diablo across this entire town. I know what I am doing...but if you wish to take this task upon yourself, fairy, be my guest. I have only one request. Bring the witch to me, alive. I have plans for the cunt."

Jeneva nodded, pride for having gotten what she wanted swelling in her chest. "I will. What does she look like?"

"She will make herself known soon enough." He made to leave, but turned back once more and stared her in the eye, looking down at her to do so. "And remember, I'm watching your every move. A thousand eyes cannot miss their target."

As he walked towards the door, Jack winked at her and whispered. "He'll have to get used to it, but he meant five hundred."

Jack then took the artifact and followed Nicholas into the back room with the terrible puke-green wallpaper. The large man waved his hand in a circle motion and whirlpool began to grow in the floor. It was about this time that Jack laid his eyes upon the girl. The utmost beauty he had seen in three lifetimes. She was amazing, a small bit of hair falling across her forehead, her skin the color of cream and undoubtedly soft to the touch. In so many words, Jack was smitten with the girl.

"I want that, Nicholas."

Santa looked up to see what he meant. He breathed out a soft chuckle, blowing some ghastly breath in Jack's direction. "You like? Name's Tara. Sorry though, she's marked; impure. I'm sure you'd only want the best."

Jack gave him a shocked and betrayed look, but the bigger man missed it as he was inspecting the portal. He'd deal with what he'd just heard later. For now he had to concentrate on getting back home. His friend turned and pointed to the girl. "Carry her, I've got Finn."

Jack nodded, figuring that he was referring to the other slumped form of the male. He pocketed the artifact and stooped, careful not to hurt the young beauty as he picked her up and dragged her over to the whirlpool, which now spanned the majority of the room. "See you back home."

With that he jumped in, felt sand and wind enter his lungs and passed out before fully vanishing from sight.

**23. Swordplay of the Doppelganger Variety**

Willow fought for breath, finally catching sight of the diner down the street. By now the sidewalks, the streets, the median, everything was covered with snow. It was hard for her to walk without ending up digging her shoes out of the fallen ice. The streetlights over head provided enough light to navigate by, but her main reason for sticking so closely to them was so the nothing had a chance of sneaking up on her without her knowing about it.

The wind had gotten colder and harsher, and Willow's jacket and thin shirt were definitely not enough to sustain these types of temperatures.

_Tara..._

A picture of Tara's face, pain-filled and tortured entered her mind, and her pace quickened. Now she had lost them both, her best friend and her true love. Two people she could not live without. And there was nothing she could do but continue walking in the cold, straight into the _Steak and Ale, _straight into the mouth of madness if she had to.

But upon entering through the broken door of the restaurant, Willow thought that the worst had already passed. The entire bar and dining area was in tatters, with very little left standing. Something glinted by her feet and she bent down to pick it up. A Zippo, the inscription on the bottom reading,

Riley,   
For the times when nothing seems bright.   
Margaret Walsh

Professor Walsh? This was Riley's lighter...putting it in her jacket pocket for safe keeping, Willow suddenly wished she hadn't dropped her baton back at the Ferris Wheel jump. It had been her only weapon. Looking around for anything that melt help her now, Willow spotted a warped and slightly bent metal pipe lying in between to tables that had their legs shot off. As she grabbed it from the floor Willow saw something else that peaked her interest. A sawed-off shotgun had been discarded and was lying next to the totaled bar-top.

But before she could reach it someone stumbled out of the kitchen barely able to stand up and holding their stomach.

"Giles!" She ran to him, dropping the pipe as he fell to his knees. She put her arms on his shoulder as he looked up at her weakly.

"Heal me," he whispered.

She shook her head in distress. "No, Giles I don't have any herbs. The car's still at the carnival. Listen to me, he has Tara now too. I tried to stop him, I-I even took out his eye, but the cart crashed and-"

Giles put a hand in the air, cutting her off. "I've heard enough. I just had to be sure."

Willow frowned, and an odd feeling began to run through her stomach. One she had been taught to remember. After Faith had stolen Buffy's identity a while back, Tara had begun teaching Willow the way knowing a person's aura. Once their relationship had become a bit more intimate, it was easier for her to learn. As a person's aura can easily be reached. It identifies who they are just like an I.D. or fingerprints.

Each individual has their own being which is completely different than any and every other person. Tara had shown her how to know the difference not only between Amy (a fellow witch who had been turned into a rat) and other rodents, but how to tell every rodent apart. Willow felt wave-like signals off of everything, and at first it had been difficult to deal with. But thanks to Tara she'd become quite the aficionado at telling people apart, even if they looked, smelled and felt the same. And Giles was definitely **not** Giles. She backed away, bending back down to retrieve her pipe from the floor.

"Who are you?"

Giles smiled. "Oh, you're not half bad. A true witch would have known from the start that this wasn't my true body, but you're nothing to scoff at. A pity you'll not have much longer to hone your skills."

Willow eyed the doppelganger. "Where's Giles?"

The creature smiled and morphed slightly. It was still Giles, but his skin was deathly white, his lip had frozen blood running along it and his stomach had been pierced, also a deep frozen red. His shoes were missing and he swayed slightly from left to right, as though hanging...worst of all, his eyes held a glassy quality to them that could only mean one thing. Willow screamed, bringing her hand up to her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. The being shifted back into it's previous form and withdrew a long Katana out of the back of it's shirt. Had she been thinking about this she might've considered it as more enchanted clothing.

But her mind was only on one thing. Revenge. She scowled at the being and brandished her pipe threateningly. It smiled and took a swipe at her. She ducked the blade and tried to make a move of her own, jabbing the piped forward. The creature side-stepped her easily and swiped again, this time cutting a long if mostly harmless line across her shoulder blade, cutting through jacket, shirt and skin.

She growled and tried a different approach. Jumping back, she awaited the next move. Once again the Giles/thing swiped, and this time Willow let the sharp edge cut her. The being frowned, but then went into an uppercut with the butt of it's sword and a sweep at Willow's feet, both of which she allowed to happen by not fighting back. The being tried to finish her off as she lay beneath it's sword, but she rolled out of the way and jumped back to her feet, an admittedly large pain in her jaw from the uppercut.

It's smiled faded away completely. "Fight back, witch. This grows tiresome!" But when Willow saw the being go back into it's swipe move she did fight back. She ducked the swipe as she had before and made it look as though she were about to jab again until the Giles/thing side-stepped once more. She then stayed in her ducked position and swung the pipe like a bat, hitting it in the gut. Then when it went for it's uppercut Willow did a sweep of her own, tripping the bodies legs and watching as it tumbled. It jumped up and stepped a few feet backwards, then shocked Willow by erupting wings from it's back.

It's entire body morphed into that of a voluptuous woman, scantily glad in a body suit the same color as it's skin, blue. It looked like a cross between a fairy and an elf. Only that from what Willow had read, fairy's and elves were usually happy folk, and this elf was not the least be happy. Willow shivered, thinking about fairies. Somehow, what she had just thought made the universe feel wrong, and she had the oddest sense of Deja Vu'. Shrugging it off as unfortunate and Unnatural Selection, Willow concentrated on her enemy.

"You think you can learn how to move like me, fight like me? All my life I have trained to be the best. You can not win."

At this she rushed at Willow, voraciously hacking at her with the Katana. The girl realized that the fairy was right, that there was no way now that she had stripped herself of Giles' clumsy body that she could be beaten at her own game. Willow leapt backwards, her feet landing on one of the few tables still standing. She was blocking most of the hits now instead of dealing them and the battle was becoming increasingly unfair as the lithe and energetic shape-shifter flittered around on wings, wearing Willow down.

She was considering her next move when the blade swept at her feet and the was forced to jump ungracefully from the wooden table, rolling and getting up just in time to witness a spectacle she didn't like. The fairy stood before her only now her sword was glowing a deadly blue, electricity from the blade crackling and sparkling in the reflections off of the creature's big crystal-like eyes. It raised the sword above her head and brought it down with a _whoosh_, Willow bringing up the pipe to once again protect her.

But the pipe was no match for the energy built up in the sword, which was so powerful it blew the stainless steel into several neat if useless pieces, as well as lifting Willow off of the floor and throwing her clear across the bar. She landed in glass, but with all the beating her denim jacket had taken recently it was like rawhide, and protected her from most of the dangerous points. Willow went for broke, taking three or four of the remaining unbroken bottles off of the shelves beneath the bar counter and rose up. The fairy was not expecting alcoholic bombs, and shook in fury and glass burst all over her.

Willow took careful aim and threw the last bottle watching as it soared threw the air and exploded along one leathery wing. As the fairy was still in flight at the time, she suddenly began to dive bomb, directly at Willow. The witch jumped clear of the bar as the shape-shifter landed. She quickly got to her feet and noticed a line of alcohol had been made from where she'd landed to where the back of the bar was. Willow heard the glass clinking together and the shuffling of small feet, and she made a connection.

Pulling out Riley's lighter, she flipped opened the thumbed the roller until it burst alive, then (while making sure to keep clear of it herself) lowered the metal case to the beer line on the floor. It sparked, then whooshed up, following in the line faster than Willow's eyes could keep up. For just a second, everything was quite. Willow's breathed sucked in, and she wondered if it'd worked.

_FOOM! _An ear-splitting screech emanated from behind the bar, and Willow watched in awe as everything in the area showered itself if flames. Everything. Willow backed away on all fours, her eyes wide. She herself was covered in the flammable liquid from landing behind the bar, which meant that she had to do something and quick. The awful howling had turned now into more of a pitiful squealing like that of a pig on a stake that someone had forgot to cut the throat of. Willow shivered. _Kosher...___

A flame sparked a few feet to her left and Willow cried out, looking at what the flame was nearing. A fire extinguisher! The entire room would be blown sky-high! She got to her feet and carefully skipped along the lines of fire around the carpet, hop-scotching over to the large red bomb-in waiting just before the fire touched it. Jumping back, she remembered that what she now held in her hands was also her safety. She opened the flap and pressed down, watching as the nozzle sprayed forth it's torrent of white mist, covering up and killing the flames around her. Once she'd gotten everything surrounding the bar she placed the extinguisher high in the air above the bar so that she could spray it without actually having to observe the damage she'd caused. The screaming had stopped now...

Soon every bit of fire had disappeared (that she could see anyway) and Willow let the heavy red cylinder tumble to the floor with her. Idly, still in the shock of what had just occurred, Willow looked at something black to her right. A submachine gun...She picked it up and examined it curiously, wondering what the hell happened to the bar before she did.

_Drip, drip, drip...___

Willow glanced up at the sound, asking herself what could be making it. Probably a beer bottle on it's side, leaking it's contents out onto the bar floor. But still, Willow's imagination pried. As did her curiosity. And not just about the sound, a part of her wanted to see the body...a sick sort of revenge to be sure, but she wanted it emblazoned on her memory forever, just as that horrible image of Giles would be. _An eye for an eye.___

She crawled over and peaked around the counter of the bar...and gasped. There was a bottle, and yes it dripped down onto the floor, but there was no body. Still not getting up, Willow heard a growl coming from on top of the bar, looked up, and wished she hadn't.

Part of it was burnt crispy black, with bright red blood oozing from certain points, and the other parts of it were covered in the white extinguisher soot. But the face...it snarled, it's teeth long and sharp, it's hair wild. It's wings were almost completely gone, with only bloody stumps remaining. It leaped at her then, soaring threw the air with it's hideous arms outstretched. She did the only thing she could, acting solely on instinct. She opened fire with the Uzi, chattering out round after round into the beast, blood flying in ever direction, pieces of flesh covering the counter, gurgles of attempted screams of pain coming from it's throat until she shot that apart too.

She didn't stop firing until the gun clicked, empty. The beast on the bar was dead. _Permanently emblazoned...___

Smiling in grim satisfaction, Willow spotted Riley's lighter where she'd left it on the floor. Pocketing it, she looked around her. She could check the kitchen which she could see through the two square windows in the double-doors, or she could check what was behind the door with the porthole. She chose the door with the porthole, having a bad feeling about the kitchen...

**24. Down the Hatch******

Xander shook his head, struggling to stay awake on the road.

"H-hey Dawn, pass me the 'EZ Wake' will you?"

The teen nodded and once again took the small bottle out of the glove compartment, passing it to Anya who gave it to Xander. The ex-demon twiddled her thumbs nervously, her eyes shifting between Xander to Dawn and back to Xander.

"So, umm, how much further?"

Popping open the child safety cap with one hand Xander tilted the bottle until two of the white glories slid between his lips and down his throat. He then put the cap back on and tossed the canister back to Dawn before giving Anya his usual annoyed look. "Anya babe, could you not be so anticipating our demise. Dawn and I are scared, join the crowd." He reached up and stroked her chin affectionately, but she pulled away, looking embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry, I just want all of this to be over."

Xander nodded, then frowned. "Wait, all of what? I didn't fill you in on what was going on."

Dawn's eyes lit up and she pointed. "Look, I can see it, there it is!"

Xander was still frowning and Anya, who turned from Dawn back to him. A wide grin had broken across her face, spreading the length from one of her cheeks to the other.

"Anya, what's wrong with you?"

The car short forward with a burst of extra speed, and Xander looked down in horror to see that Anya had her foot pressed against the pedal. As he looked back up her face shifted for a moment, splitting into Joyce's before going back to Anya's. But when she whispered to him it was Joyce's voice remained.

"Xander boy, it's time to go to sleep!"

"Oh shit!", Xander screamed, struggling for control of the vehicle while Dawn tried to see what was unfolding. She started hitting on Anya with her little fists, but it was too late. The car careened towards the front of the restaurant, at the last second Anya grasping onto Dawn and forming a psychic bubble of protection around them.

The vehicle slammed through into the diner; Xander being the only one unprotected had his head blasted into the steering wheel while glass flew all around them, puncturing holes in the seats, the cushions, the floorboards, the headrests and of course Xander. But everything bounced harmlessly off of Dawn and her capture until the Buick halted, halfway in and halfway out of the building.

The protection bubble evaporated and Anya looked around them in awe, the crazy grin seemingly plastered to her face.

"Yahoo! What a rush that was!" She yelled, her voice turning more male now. Dawn saw Xander and began to cry in earnest, reaching out for his unmoving and bloody form. Anya saw what she was doing and laughed, slapping her hand away and reaching over to open the passenger side door. She then motioned for Dawn to exit. "C'mon Key, let's go find sis' and the fat one."

But she continued sobbing louder, calling out Xander's name and grabbing at his sleeve, shaking him. Anya pushed the smaller girl out of the car and exited herself, giggling all the while. "Tsk tsk," she said at Xander, "Someone should have had an airbag installed. You humans are always so big on those." As she laughed her face and body changed, turning into a bluish-brown creature. It's muscles packed along it's shoulders and it's wings were big and masculine, it's face that of an elf's.

He grabbed the struggling girl and lifted her to her feet. Then effortlessly picked her up and threw her along on shoulder, glancing around what he found very hard to believe had once been a bar, a respectable place of business. It looked more like a warzone now, with scorch marks, white soot, glass, blood and bullet cases all around, spread among the debris.

His joviality was cut short though, as he saw what lay sprawled along the bar. He wouldn't have been able to recognize it as Jeneva had her scent not filled the air, the acrid smell of her burnt flesh assaulting his sensitive nostrils. His features gave way to that of shock and despair, and he let the small girl drop to the floor behind him.

"Xander!" Dawn cried, tears streaming down her eyes, but she found that she was frozen in place. The thing that had pretended to be Anya must have put another spell on her.

"Ah, sis..." His face seemed tortured for a moment as he ran one finger lightly over the small, shredded and burnt corpse. "You were always so fragile, so pretty. You never gave a day to yourself, you brefkin entwa'gina," he cursed her in their native tongue without anger in his voice, but more sorrow instead. "Always stuck to the rules, never letting me look after you." He shook his head. "Stupid entwa'gina, I don't think you ever lived to enjoy a day of your life."

Her eyes now transfixed on the scene taking place before her, Dawn watched as he puckered his lips slightly and kissed what she hoped was the forehead of the dead thing on the counter. He then wiped the blood and flesh from his mouth and turned the body on it's back before looking back at her. "You may want to close your eyes, Key. This is only customary."

Too in shock to comprehend his words, Dawn observed as he raised his hands above his head like a club and brought them back down onto the chest of the body.

_Whumph!___

Blood splattered along the counter, but this was apparently not what he wanted. He raised his large, muscular hands again.

_Whumph!___

And again he repeated the process.

_Whumphcrrk!___

He shook his head in disbelief and tried again.

_Whumphcraack!___

More blood flew everywhere, some of it (still warm) hitting Dawn along her cheek. If she could've moved she would have hastily wiped it off. But this was the least of the horror she witnessed. Now that he had opened the chest, the large blue winged elf reached into his sister's ribcage, pulling and yanking, making sounds that Dawn would forever remember in her nightmares.

Her grinned as he finally pulled forth what he wanted. A heart, twice the size of a humans' was now beheld in his left hand. Dawn tried to shake her head, somehow knowing what was coming. She couldn't force herself to close her eyes, which were the only muscles the elf was allowing her to use at the moment.

He opened his mouth and closed it around half of the heart, biting into it and vigorously grinding his teeth along it as blood gushed down his chin. Dawn could feel bile rising in her throat, but she couldn't even vomit right now. He quickly shoved what was left in his mouth and licked his fingers after swallowing the organ. Turning back to her, he grinned again. The same grin he'd worn with Anya. "I told you to turn your head, it's a tradition our family has. I now possess the strength and more importantly the soul of my sibling. How do the humans say it? It's all good."

He let her move again, grabbing her shoulder and, after concentrating on where the portal would be, entered the green door. "Take it from Sethiroph Key, you'll like this. It's a trip."

He picked her up and jumped into the whirlpool, both of them losing consciousness along the way.

**25. Reinforcement******

Xander groaned a few minutes later, prying himself off of the steering wheel. Suffice to say, he was not having a good day. Leaning back, everything rushed into his brain and he gasped, checking the seat next to him. Dawn and Anya (maybe she was possessed) had vanished.

"Dammit! Ah, ahhh!" He had banged his fist into the steering wheel, only to realize that he had become a human pincushion. Little beads of blood were all over him and he'd have a horrid bruise on his forehead in few days, but it was nothing fatal. He was actually surprised at how easy he'd gotten off.

Carefully exiting the crashed Buick, Xander looked around him. "Damn..."

* 

After a quick look at the kitchens proved useless, Xander peeked through the portal in the door. Other than a nice green he'd consider putting up in his own apartment, something was up with the floor. He opened the door and stepped back in shock. _Am I supposed to jump through this thing?___

Not with out back-up he wasn't. Xander turned around and stepped on something that nearly caused him to fall. "Wow, an Uzi. Been awhile since I've seen one of these..." He got a feel for it in his hands and then spotted the sawed-off shotgun not too much further away. Upon closer inspection both were empty, but it wouldn't take him more than fifteen minutes from here to remedy that situation. If everyone was asleep like Giles and Willow had theorized, of course... Also, he wasn't going into that hole alone unless it was absolutely necessary, and he had a gut feeling it wasn't.

Crawling out of the wreckage, Xander plotted out his course. If he hit both the spots he needed to, that being the armory shop down the street and the graveyard a quarter of a mile up the road, he could get back to the whirlpool in about twenty-five minutes. Checking his watch, he saw that it was two-thirty. Dawn would rise in about four hours. He took a deep breath. _No sweat, I can do this._ He just hoped that the others could hold their own long enough, wherever they were...   
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Whooooooooo!!!!!! Do you hear me Voltaire! Damn! I am pooped! I wrote the majority of all this in two days. I even wrote a good ninety percent of this one today. It's two o'clock now and I'm about to do the spell check thing. Then I'm going to have to check the grammar, and that's going to be a bitch. Also, I have a few notes. This will undoubtedly have some errors in synonyms and grammar that I won't catch, for which I apologize. But on a more important error, I have changed Jim's_ Steak and Ale_ to Jack's_ Steak and Ale. _Sorry for the confusion I may have caused some of you, I'll fix the error in the second chapter as soon as possible. Thanks you peoples, I'm gonna go kick some grammar and spelling ass, then I'm gonna get up like two hours later and post the fucking thing. Hey, this is me updating. I didn't go to bed at all. It just now turned to eight AM. Screw you guys, I'm loading this baby and then I'm off to lala land.

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)

---I've got this strange, stirring feeling in the crotch of my corduroy's. It's like an itch but it's more developed, it's like a pain but it's more pleasurable. I think I might like this feeling, but I need to be sure. Freud says that the essence to liking something is through pleasure of something else, and so we form a chain from this one single thing. Well, when I saw Wendy this feeling started, so I think I'll call it Wendy and go rub my crotch against a tree. Oh god, Wendy. WENDY, YES!!!! OH GOD WENDY, DO IT TO ME LIKE THAT, YEAH!!!


	5. Teufel

  
Disclaimer- Joss and the WB own the rights.

Summary- On Christmas Eve, what's a Jewish girl to do? Why, kick some big fat Santa ass, that's what! But can Willow and Tara really save Sunnydale and defeat Santa without losing the lives of their friends or each other?

Spoilers- Major Season 5 spoilage.

Rating- Hard R: Sex, gore, profanities, strong violence.

Feedback- Please?

_Author's Notes-_ This is a horror story in case you didn't see the category I set it to. It's not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it.   
________________________________________________________________________________________

Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike   
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Chapter 4

**26. Winter Wonderland (Riley's Out)**

It wasn't the bitter chill running across his body that brought Riley Finn back to consciousness, nor was it the discomfort of being strung up by his hands and feet along a block of ice three times his size. No, it was the screaming around him that awoke the former soldier from the brutal hit on the head he had suffered.

His eyes fluttered open as another gust of hail slashed at his cheek and face. The first thing his brain comprehended was how completely white everything surrounding him was. Then objects began to form and Riley started observing other oddities of the environment. He thought for a moment that he was in Superman's hide-out as he examined the white rock faces and jagged cliffs that seemed to go on forever. Small dwarf-like people (that would have come to about his chest had he been on the ground) were everywhere performing various duties. Some were wheeling around wooden crates while others wore small white lab coats and carried clipboards. Still others adorned what looked to be security outfits that had small guns in their holsters.

_Elves..._

They must've been Santa's elves. Looking to his left and right Riley saw other elves, all wearing blue uniforms. They were tied up the same as he was. _Well,_ he thought, _it could be worse. We could be chained up here naked._ A hot blast of air mingled unpleasantly with the freezing cold and for the first time Riley realized that somewhere nearby people were screaming in agony, and that had been the strange sound that had woken him up. He glanced downwards and had to force back the scream building up in his chest.

A chasm was directly beneath the rock he and the others were chained to. There was a small catwalk that must've been used to get them up there, but beyond that was a long drop straight into molten lava. It rolled and bubbled up, making the same sound he might imagine a pot of boiling water would as it coursed it's way around glowing red rocks and boulders. But it wasn't the lava that struck terror in his heart. It was the bodies and heads sticking out from the material, howling up at him. He couldn't make out the details of their faces nor even if they were male or female because of the distance, but he saw them down there. Struggling to move, no doubt desperate to end their miserable existences.

A large air bubble began to grow in part of the lava, then another. Riley was transfixed on the horrible sight below him as two red ears protruded from the mess, soon followed by a head and two eyes, pitch black surrounding burning napalm pupils. It dawned on Riley at this moment that he was situated directly above what it was Buffy battled every day of her life. The mouth of hell. Only he got the feeling that he wasn't in Sunnydale anymore.

The behemoth beneath him opened it's gaping maw, and darkness began to flow out of it like waves of oil, rising to the top of the glass. It didn't take long for his compatriots alongside him to begin screaming, pleading for death as the darkness flew towards them. Riley's life flashed before his eyes in a sort-of montage. The farm, his mother in a flower-pattern blue dress, Graham, basic training and the Initiative. Finally Buffy was there in his mind, naked save for the semi-transparent silk sheet flowing over her as she stared up at him, smiling. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and as the evil enveloped him, seeping into his body through his nose and mouth and the pores of his skin, Riley's final thought was how old she appeared if you looked into her eyes...

**27. Jack Frost**

Jack waved and gave a thumbs up to a few elves on their down-time, smoking cigarettes and playing cards around an ice covered table. They each gave him a withering look but he kept smiling, returning his gaze to the white path before him as he rolled the unconscious beauty on the stretcher to her holding cell.

He entered the small jail hallway (small because most captives were turned or killed immediately upon arrival, and very few were ever needed as ransom or the like) and grabbed a large ring of keys off of the admittance desk, which was deserted. The elf running the desk was probably one of the card-players he'd just seen.

She could have gone in any cell as every room was completely empty, but he chose the fourth room on the right as it was the largest and looked the most accommodating to her, with a urine and waste-hole that wasn't emitting any foul odors. Then again, he'd learned over the years of living here that elves were one of the few species that could truly claim their shit didn't stink. And they did...often.

The young goddess beneath him that Nicholas had referred to as 'Tara' groaned and opened her eyes, then slowly got up off the stretcher looking very dazed and confused. She put a hand on her temple and walked into the cell. He figured she was too out-of-it to realize what she was doing. The girl noticed him standing there and her eyes looked hopeful.

"Where's Willow?"

He frowned. He'd been expecting her to ask where she herself was. "Who?"

She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "You d-don't know Willow. Am I...am I dead?"

He chuckled and entered the cell, pushing the stretcher out of the way. "No, you're just a little off-put from the trip. The portal we entered has a rather nifty negative tempature shock absorber cast into it. Took us weeks to perfect it but you should be fine in a while. Your body is regulating itself with the help of the spell to adapt better than most humans would." He sat down next to her and straightened her sweater. "Pretty soon you won't even need this to warm you up." She looked down at his fingers as though they were foreign objects.

His smiled and put forth a hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name's Jack Frost...perhaps you've heard of me?"

She looked even more confused now, shaking his hand. "The guy who nips at your nose?"

More than happy to elaborate about himself, Jack laughed. "Right, that's me. Only they don't portray me exactly right. I used to be an entity, just floating around bringing snow and cold weather to various places on Christmas Eve. Then The Powers That Be decided I was creating to much of a 'problem'", he emphasized this by making quotation marks with his fingers, "So they made me into a Recurring Single-Being Entity. That means I'm basically human; I eat, sleep, drink and die after about eighty years but unlike other humans I'm reborn every time looking the exact same, will all my memories intact. I'm also born here in the North Pole; I don't have to go through that whole messy birth procedure. Unfortunately, I can only bring snow to one town every Christmas now, which really sucks."

She stared back at him. "Oh."

"...And what's your name?"

"Tara."

He nodded, happy to hear this. "Good, good. At least he told me the truth about that."

"H-he who?"

"Hmm? Oh, my buddy Nicholas. Well, I should say ex-buddy. Get this, he tried to tell me, me of all people, that you were impure. As if I couldn't tell otherwise."

She frowned. "What?"

"Impure, tainted. You know, not a virgin. But you can't just tell Jack that a girl isn't a virgin, Jack _knows_ if a girl has been touched in that special way before." He ran a hand along her hair. "And you, my lovely girl, have most definitely not been touched. I can't sense a single man on you."

She blushed furiously then, but Jack smiled and put a finger over her lips as she was about to say something. No doubt, she was going to tell him of all the men she had been with. She was even more beautiful when she was embarrassed.

"It's all right, you don't have to protect your pride with me. The human libido is something fragile, I get that. Just let me tell you, one night with me and you'll never have to think about this again. I'm the Casanova of Ice, baby, I'm the flame and the freeze all at once. It doesn't get any better than Jack." With this said, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, her skin so soft and warm compared to his own. When she opened her mouth he backed away, shaking his finger at her, about to tell her to wait with the tongue until they were in a more suitable time and place. But she had this strangest face, like she'd just found a roach in her soup. Also, her hands were in the air as though she were about to push him away.

This was undoubtedly not the desired effect of a kiss from _the_ Jack Frost, but he took it in stride, just like everything else. She was simply surprised by the fact that he could know so much about her, see so deeply into her soul.

"Listen," he said, rising from the bed. "I'm going to have to lock you up for a little while so I can go get you off the hook. We're having this big sacrifice soon and your name's on the participant's list, so I'm gonna have to convince them it should be on the guest list instead."

She swallowed, looking very nervous now. "Sacrifice?"

He nodded. "Yeah, we're going to open the pits of hell tonight and we need some impure human blood to do it with. People think virgin blood is so much better, but it really isn't. In any case, after I've done that and a few other things, I've got this great ride, a private jet. Enchanted baby, it can go anywhere, any time. No fuel necessary. So you and I can cruise for a few weeks while I get my campaign going."

She was starting to appear as though she was going through an information overload. "Campaign?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I don't have time to go into detail on that subject as of right now. But I promise, give me twenty-five minutes and I'm all yours, beautiful." Jack turned to leave before remembering something and sliding back to her, pulling a button out from his pocket and pinning it gently onto her sweater. "And yes, you'll be all mine too. I'm your number one guy, remember that." Winking at her devilishly, Jack returned to the cell door and closed it, pulling out the keys to lock it in place.

"Oh, and the vents come on every half hour to, you know, air out the place. So don't get scared by the noise." He waved at her and blew a kiss before walking back to the desk and filling in what time she had arrived. God was he falling for her! And he could tell, she dug him too.

Back in the cell, unsure of what to think about what had just happened, Tara pulled off the pin and examined it. It had Jack on it, smiling handsomely and giving a double thumbs-up. In red and white writing was the insert, 'Jack Frost, Leader of the World. You're #1 Guy!'

**28. Delivery**

Sethiroph entered the chamber of the ice-labyrinth, his feet echoing hollowly until he stopped before the red crystal and lowered the sleeping form of Dawn onto the pedestal underneath it. From somewhere nearby a stream burbled quietly.

"My lord, I give you the Key."

Diablo appeared in the crystal, his heavy breathing running along the walls. His monstrous face filled the crystal shard, his lifeless eyes of fire watching Sethiroph. "Good..." His deep voice rumbled.

"Jeneva's dead..."

"That is of no importance to me."

"Yeah-umm, nor is it to me, sir. I was simply explaining her lack of presence."

The demon lord was quiet for a moment. "Is everything ready?"

Sethiroph nodded, stepping forward and braving the crystal. "It will be shortly...sir. Mr. Frost and the fa-", he stumbled, stopping himself from showing his disrespect, "Fa-Father Christmas have arrived and are performing certain duties before gracing your presence."

"What duties?"

"Uh, Nicholas stated to me that he was going to make use of the boy we brought with us and Jack should be here any moment with the sacrifice."

"And the artifact?"

The fairy-elf grinned, his ears perking up. Easy questions made for simple answers, which made him look good. And after tonight, it would be important to look good in front of Diablo. "Jack has the stone as well, sir."

Though it was hard to tell, the demon below began to grin, his teeth (each as big as a mini van) splayed widely. "Excellent..." The sound of his laughing could then be heard throughout all floors of the labyrinth.

**29. Baringold's Army**

The whistle blew in the weapons loading area, signaling break time for those working inside.

"Oy, I'm dead on my feet." One elf rested his back against a large crate as the other exited, pulling out a pack of _Keebler's Cigarettes_ and shaking the plastic until one such stick popped out. Putting it in his lips, he struck a match on the rough skin of his ear and lit the cigarette, taking a heavy drag and passing it to his co-worker, who also had his back on the box.

"I know," the other elf grumbled, "All I wanted was to be off toy detail, I had no idea I'd wind up hauling crates for the big man."

The first shrugged. "Eh, it's a living. Hey, did you see the hot chick human gettin' wheeled around before?"

"By who?"

"That creep Frost."

The second shook his head. "Huh-uh, I make it a personal goal to stay away from him. But what about this female?"

"Oh, what a hottie. I swear, take off a few feet, lengthen the ears, I'd give it to her." He made a spanking motion in the air while thrusting his pelvis out. "Ah yeah, just like that."

The co-worker grinned. "Yeah, I considered going for a human once. It's just that they act so above us. I mean, we're at the top of the world."

Taking a long drag, the first elf nodded. "Yeah, and our shit don't stink."

"Word."

"Word." They slipped the skins of their palms together.

Something clattered to the ground behind the crate, making both elves jump from fright.

"What the hell was that?"

"Beats me, but I ain't checkin' it out. I still got fifteen minutes left, no way I'm getting my ass kicked off the clock."

"Straight, let's book. I wanna see if my exploding Viktor Krum doll has found a home yet."

They left the weapons loading area, leaving behind the equipment they had been using. Once she heard the large-size door screeching closed behind them, Willow appeared out from behind the crate, examining the rest of the room. She had been beginning to think they would never leave.

The room was very massive, as were all of the loading rooms she had seen while sneaking around. She had been expecting to be caught freezing to death, but to her surprise after she had woken up at the other end of the portal, no one was around and she continued to get warmer. Had the elves been talking about Tara?

"Not a good idea walking around like this." A high-pitched voice called out behind her.

Weaponless, Willow put her hands in the air and turned. An elf in a blue uniform stared back at her as he stood atop one of the many large crates. "They might catch you," he said, jumping from the box, "and believe me, you wouldn't want that."

Willow frowned. "What do you mean 'they'?"

"Them, the other elves." He sighed, looking at her impatiently. He was a handsome elf, a nice wave of blonde hair running down his back and a few strands across his face. He looked the true figure of authority and virtue, for an elf. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Willow shook her head. "No, I'm from Sunnydale."

"Ah, the key to this place. They should probably keep that portal better guarded. What can I say, welcome to the North Pole. You're deep in the center of Mount Teufel, where Santa Claus creates his evil monstrosities. If you're wondering what Teufel-"

Willow cut him off as they continued to walk towards each other. "It's german for Devil, I know."

"Of course you do. My question is, why aren't you asleep with the rest of the humans?"

Willow shrugged. "I don't exactly know. _My_ question is, why aren't you out with all of the other elves?"

He smiled. "I'm not with them because they work for evil. My people are as we speak gearing up at every exit and entrance to this place. A few of our spies were caught finding out the location of this place and I came to help them." He spread his hands out, a sad look on his face. "Alas, I could not save them. They are now on the side of evil as well, and there is nothing I can do for them."

By now they were talking in normal tones, only a few feet between them. "So you're going to attack this place?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes. We aren't exactly sure what they're planning on doing, but our elven brethren and Mr. Kringle will be stopped tonight, before they destroy the world."

Willow put out her hand. "Well, I'm looking for my friends. I'll help you take him down if you help me."

He looked at her hand, but didn't take it. "Why should I?"

She smiled. "You said it yourself. There has to be some reason why I'm not asleep like the rest of my species."

He grinned, shaking her hand. "My name is Baringold. How can I help you?"

"I'm Willow. You can start by helping me find-"

"The girl? The one those simpletons were speaking of?"

Willow nodded again hopefully.

"I saw her. I think Frost was taking her to the jails. Follow me."

They walked over to the crate the workers had been by, and as Baringold grabbed a crowbar he signaled for Willow to do the same. She picked one up and at both sides, it took a matter of moments for the side to fall off the crate. Willow stood back, shocked. Weapons of all varieties were placed precariously inside, along with ammo. After a second of searching Baringold took out a quicksilver bow and arrow. She noted that he already had a quiver strapped on his back that held a few arrows, but he replenished his supply.

Willow on the other hand was more interested in the two silenced pistols of an unknown elven make (so they were a bit small in her hand) and a larger gun that she quickly found (the hard way) to be a mini blow torch. After stamping out the fire the two observed each other.

"We don't have enough time to find your friend first, but I know this place better than you. I'll take you to the War Room so that we'll both see what they're up to, then we'll split up after that."

Willow nodded and walked with him to the large-sized door. But after this he stopped, smiling grimly down at his watch. Willow tapped her foot nervously.

"What are we waiting for?"

He put a finger up without looking at her. "Attack. It will be much easier for us to get around unnoticed in the confusion."

* 

At every entrance, just as Baringold had said, there stood his army. Loaded with weapons ranging from standard issue bow and arrow to a new prototype known as a laser pistol, which used the energy surrounding the gun to create ammo. They had each camouflaged themselves in snow-coats, lining up along the walls and ground.

Holding their breath in anticipation for what they knew would be the most important battle of their lives, the Liberation Elf Army counted down in their heads.

And then it was time.

* 

"Now," Baringold said, pulling up the large door to what seconds later was a scene of utter chaos.

**30. Enter the Heroes**

Spike looked down at the sleeping form of Xander and reached out a foot, nudging the young man. When he didn't respond Spike kicked him harshly in the gut, smiling as Xander cried out and rolled over. The British vampire rested his long double-barreled shotgun on his shoulder, observing Xander as he struggled to regain his breath and attack Spike at the same time.

"Can we get on with this or what?"

"Why'd you kick me?"

"You wanted me to come along, I came. I'm not waiting on you while you get your beauty sleep. Now get up and let's kick some jolly red-man ass!"

Xander warily got to his feet, looking around them as his breath plumed in steam. Spike's of course, did not. "Where are we?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "We're in Connecticut. Where do you think we are, addle-brain? The North Pole, Saint Nick's place of residence."

"Oh, right." Xander stooped down and picked up his Uzi off of the floor where it had landed, then checked to make sure his sawed-off was still stuck in it's holster along his back, which he had purchased from the armory shop. Well, purchased in the way you break a door, take stuff and stick all the cash in your wallet inside the register.

Both men had bullets draped along their chests Rambo-style.

Spike shook his head. "Why am I doing this again?"

Xander crept passed him and examined the frozen hallway. "Because if you ever want to experience the joy of an all-you-can-eat buffet when the Blood Bank delivery truck arrives again, you're going to have to give me a hand here."

Suddenly a small man with pointy ears in a lab coat came running down the hallway towards them. When he noticed they were there, he kept running but pulled out a small pistol and aimed it at them.

Spike pumped his shotgun and blew the man off his feet, dark red blood splattering the walls around his twitching body. Xander nodded appraisingly when two more of the strange men (this time in blue) appeared at the end, bows loaded. Xander brought up the Uzi to waist level and opened fire, the two dancing crazily as bullets punctured their arteries and life-liquid exited their bodies in dozens of tiny holes.

When all was quiet Spike patted Xander on the back roughly. "I might enjoy this after all."

They ran to the end of the hallway, inspecting the bodies.

"Oh my god," Xander said. "They're elves!"

"Yeah, well it makes no difference to me. Point is, they're demons, I can kill them, let's go kill them some more."

Xander nodded and grinned as he heard screaming and gunfire up ahead. Turning back to Spike, he gave a him a warning look. "Remember, we're here to find Dawn, Willow and the others. Don't get side-tracked."

Spiked hopped up and down, clearly agitated. "Got it, got it."

"Okay. Let's go." They picked up speed and were once again running down the hall at top speed, brandishing their weapons. Spike turned the corner first, crashing straight into another scientist-type. The elf fell to the ground, looking up at Spike with obvious fear in his eyes. Spike pumped the shotgun and brought it up to the elf's head. Xander saw this and continued running down another hallway, mapping out the place in his mind.

"P-please, don't kill me!" The small creature said, sweating bullets.

Spike looked down at his vest pocket and noticed a small rectangular packet. He nudged it with the gun. "What this, mate? Cigs?"

"Huh?" The elf looked down, confused. "Oh, yes, YES!" He pulled out the pack with a quivering hand and offered them to Spike.

The vampire took the package and released one small cigarette. "Got a light?"

The elf did, pulling out an odd looking brass cylinder. Spike took it and pressed the button, then grinned at the flame coming from the other end. He lit the stick and sucked in the toxic nicotine. "Not bad...kinda sharp."

"S-so you'll let me live?"

Spike ignored the scientist and continued on his way, enjoying the cigarette more than he had admitted.

"Merry Christmas, half-breed." The elf said, now very cheerful.

Spike stopped then and turned around. There probably wasn't a worse term for vampire in the books. "Ho-ho-ho," said, and discharged two more bullets into the small creature. He was liking this, a lot.

**31. Contentions and Contrivances**

"You what?"

"I locked her up, we're not going to sacrifice her."

Kristopher slammed his large fist into a stalagmite hanging from the wall so viciously that it left a smear of his dead skin and a bit of muddy looking fluid Jack could only guess had once been blood. Sethiroph meanwhile, stood by the red crystal (Diablo was not present inside of it at the moment) and the still sleeping form of Dawn.

Kris pointed a finger at Jack, who could see the anger in his one dead-gray eye. "We certainly will use her, we have no one else!"

"What about the guy, Finn?"

"I got rid of him, along with the blue spies the guards discovered."

Jack threw his hands in the air. "Oh, that's great Nick, good foresight on your part! I told you I wanted the girl-"

"And I told you she was tainted!"

"You're LYING TO ME..." Jack breathed in and out in slow paces, trying to calm himself, "Not a man has touched her."

Kristopher stared at him for a moment before shaking his head; his sharp, rotten teeth gleaming as his mouth opened a bit to release some spittle and drool. It rolled down his flaking blue chin and disappeared in his wild gray mane.

Jack took this as the face of someone caught in a lie. "What, did you think I wouldn't know? This is me, Jack Fucking FROST! You've known me for god-only-knows how-"

A howl resounded through the walls of the cavern, quieting everything inside. Soon afterwards Diablo's face appeared in the crystal. His eyes seem focused on Jack. "Do not use that name while in my presence."

Jack blushed slightly and stepped a few feet back from the crystal, looking down. "Of course, my lord."

"I do not want this girl...Tara. The Key will suit our purposes," Diablo rumbled.

Sethiroph frowned. "But she's pure, no? She's light itself, sir."

"Yes...but her humanity betrays her...she has had thoughts of a most impure nature, she reeks of sexual frustration. Now that she is here, she no longer holds back the gates of hell, and it seems fitting to me that the one thing keeping the world and its people from the destruction of my wrath is the one that serves it to them on a dish they'll gladly eat off of."

Jack grinned. "That's where I come in."

"Yes, once my minions have covered the farthest reaches of this earth, you will help the humans from the ashes, show them that following you is following me, and that that is a good and righteous thing."

Jack nodded. "Right. After what terror you will reek upon them, they'll be eating from the palm of my hand."

Diablo's face turned upon Sethiroph. "You shall be his first in command. You shall give upon the people what they need in exchange for their undying and never-ending loyalty to me, lest they be struck down to the pits of the darkest of hell for all of eternity."

Sethiroph nodded as well, pride filling his veins. "I will, sir.

Finally he looked at Santa, whose haggard appearance did not faze the demon-lord. "At the rise of recent developments, you are of no more use to me. Your service upon my throne has ended, and you shall leave this place at the strike of the first dawn of my reign, with the ever-lasting promise that you shall remain among my people for all of your existence."

Nicholas did not move a muscle, but instead stared at the demon in the crystal. There was no need for a word more to be spoken between them. Kringle had just received his own Christmas present, one he had been anticipating for over three centuries now. Retirement.

"My servants, let us begin."

Just then a sound of rushing feet and heavy breathing alerted them to the presence of another, running down the corridor. It drowned out the sound of the stream close to them, somewhere beyond the crystal's reflection. A lab elf popped through not much later, perspiration covering his face and an arrow protruding from his shoulder. Diablo, not to be bothered by such a lowly being, his task completed; faded from the crystal.

Sethiroph's eyes narrowed and his brows rose in curiosity. "What's the meaning of this intrusion, Ensign Depros?"

He saluted the blue fairy/elf, not giving himself time to catch his breath. "Commander Seth, The Liberation Elves are attacking. We are pushing them back but experiencing heavy losses."

Sethiroph breathed in slowly for moment before saluting back. "Go to Security Control and wait for me, Ensign Depros."

"Yes sir, Commander." The elf nodded, saluting to his superior, then noticed Jack and Santa also staring at him. His gaze lingered on the large red-suited man as he bowed respectively to him, trying not to show his shock at the loss of his eyeball. "Best wishes, Senior Claus." He looked back at Jack and it was quite obvious that he was forcing himself to suppress a sneer. "Mister Frost." He did a quick half-bow, nodded to Sethiroph again and left the room, his elven shoes squeaking as he went and small trails of blood dripping down behind him.

**32. The War Room**

The War Room at first glance looked the same as many others in the hollow mountain. Charts and graphs were stuck to the ice walls, chairs desks were inside cubicles spanning around the majority of the room, and unless they were on break, there was a plethora of elves milling around. Except that in the War Room no one was ever on break to leave the room empty. Any elf who left was immediately replaced by another. Also, the room was high security and protocol was much stricter here, a mishap punished by isolation or death.

"Okay, you see the guards patrolling outside?"

"Hang on." Willow crawled around to the other side of the bunker truck they were hiding in, then looked out of the partially frozen sheet of glass Baringold was. "Yes."

"We'll have to take them out. It won't be long after that before security is alerted to our presence, but with all the chaos around we should be able to get in and back out before they arrive."

Willow looked around her for anything that might create a good enough diversion for them to get a better shot at the guards. The driver of the bunker truck (which was positioned about two dozen yards from the entrance of the W. Room) was slumped over the steering wheel, a bullet hole in the side of his head. Willow found it was much less of a morale dilemma to kill when the people she loved were being kidnapped and slaughtered themselves.

Baringold was still talking. "-and another four guards should be on the right, if it's the same as it was last month. The major thing you'll have to remember is that there's nothing in the file cabinets we can use, the plans should be on the walls around us, so don't go shooting off to much."

A thought struck Willow, and she pulled out one of her silenced pistols. Baringold saw this and looked at her warily. "What are you doing?"

"Checking something out."

With that Willow aimed the gun at a nearby wall of the truck and pulled the trigger. Instead of shooting through it bounced off, crazily zinging off the narrow walls around them. The elf screeched and jumped on top of her, his eyes shut in anticipation for the end. But eventually the bullet lost enough momentum to glance off of a metal bunker and fall to the floor.

When they rose back up Baringold grabbed her shoulders, his eyes wild. "Are you crazy?"

Willow shook her head. "I was checking to see if the walls were bullet proof."

"Oh great, that would have been very useful to us had it punctured one of the canisters." He pointed to the bunker the bullet bounced off of.

The red-head frowned. "Why?"

"Do you _know_ what's in them?"

She shook her head again.

"Fuel! This is a truck supplying fuel to the area." He said in a harsh whisper. "There wouldn't have been enough of us left to scrape off of the walls, you entwa'gina!"

Willow ignored what she was sure was an inflammatory comment and considered what he'd said about the fuel drums. "Baringold, is there any other way out of the War Room?"

He stopped insulting her and thought for a moment. "Yes, but it isn't very wise to use it."

Willow shrugged, tugging out a crossbow from his quiver. He noticed but didn't stop her. "We're out of wise options, what's the exit?"

He sighed, leaning against the door and observing Willow as she examined one of the bunkers. "The air vents. The come on about every half hour. They're fairly easy to navigate as long as you know your way around don't get sucked into any of the fans."

She smiled, her pert nose flushed slightly from the idea forming in her mind. "Sounds good to me."

* 

"You ready, Bar?"

The elf shook his head, his cream-colored skin a bit redder then usual. "No, but let's do this any way."

"Okay." She turned the ignition, the seat a bit small even for her. She was forced to hunch over to get a full view of the area around her as she pulled out the vehicle in reverse, then turned until she was facing the entrance of the War Room. The two elves in brown guarding the door were each now at their posts, no longer pacing in between each other. They both wore tiny red hats on their heads, looking a little out of place next to the mini-Uzi's in their hands.

She suddenly shot the truck forward, her foot slammed completely against the pedal. The two elves came out of their slightly dazed states and glanced at each other worriedly. One then called into the room behind him while the other stepped forward, waving his hand at the truck to stop. When it didn't, only ten yards away they both lifted their guns and opened fire on the metal heap, it's windshield scarring and cracking slightly but never breaking. Small lights of friction and fire blazed off of the metal as bullets pelted the truck, but nothing was stopping it. The guards realized their dilemma to late, each trying to get out of the way was Willow pressed on the breaks, fish-tailing the car so it was at it's side when it slammed in to the entrance of the room, both elves crushed between it.

Willow looked over at Baringold and grinned, pulling out her two pistols and shaking her back to make sure the flame thrower was still attached to the inside lining of her denim jacket. The elf leader smiled back, the sick look leaving his face a bit as her plan seemed to be working. She waited for his approval, and when he nodded she opened her side of the door, hopping down and raising a foot in the air. She kicked forward and the door busted in, the surprised look of elves all around her. She wanted to grin with pride for herself but didn't have the time, instead bringing her guns up to face level and pulling the triggers.

The first few bullets hit their targets, blood and brains spraying from the tiny creatures as they stood in place, still shocked at the abrupt entrance. But soon afterwards her kill rate began to dwindle as the scientists began to hide and the officers and armed guards began to load up themselves, raising their weapons in retaliation. Also, Willow's aim wasn't that spectacular. She'd had to shoot down Oz more than once with the large-size tranquilizer gun, but that seemed to encompass her training in weaponry.

She jumped out of sight between two cubicles as the guards fired their own weapons, bullets tearing through the thin walls above her. Meanwhile, as Willow continued to keep the heat concentrated on her own person, Baringold was sharp-shooting the high-up personnel surrounding the planning area, and he could already see maps and plans along the table. They looked about in panic for where the killer was, but Bar was a professional and constantly moved, choosing only the best spots to take them down at. Before he could get him lined within the site of his bow and arrow one of the elves grabbed a blueprint of some sort and disappeared behind a wooden door to the left.

Willow was still busy in gunplay with her own enemies, four security elves at the right and another two at the left. Willow waited until she heard nothing from the right side and peered over quickly catching three of them reloading while another had been waiting for her. He raised his gun but she fired first, putting him and the elf next to him down for the count. That meant two were now on either side. But she didn't have much time to think as the cubicle she was leaning against collapsed on top of her, bullets shooting their way through.

The guards saw blood spilling through the holes and breathed out sighs of relief. One even laughed in a high voice and punched his buddy in the arm. Suddenly Willow blasted through the mess of plaster and ice, the small blowtorch now in her hands. She pulled against the release, flame erupting from the spout and the four elves screaming as they were shrouded in the fire. She quickly let go of the release and put the weapon back behind her, picking up her two guns from the rubble and examining her wounds. Had enough of them hit she would have been killed, but only two had gotten her, both piercing the side of her waist, the exit holes leaving larger marks then the entrances. They hurt like hell but she'd heal quickly.

"Willow, over here!" Baringold called out, waving her over. She glanced to either side authoritatively, noticing in satisfaction that the guards were dead and the scientists and workers were cowering. She jogged, slightly hunched from the bullet wounds, over to where her compatriot was. He looked genuinely frightened and exhilarated at the same time as she stepped in between the arrow-riddled bodies of the elves he'd taken out.

"It's an invasion! They're going to release Diablo from his pit and then they're going to storm out of the hellmouth. Look here." He pointed to certain spots and on the map of the word displayed along the table. Arrows and lines showed where the armies would head, while others showed trajectory points of capture. But Baringold was pointing out small buildings. "You see these structures here? They're temples, Willow, temples that worship the demon-lord Diablo and I'm guessing are going to act as mini-hellmouths. While the main attack seems to come from your Sunnydale, the temples will also be points of exit. They've been placed in small, unknown countries, amazons. I guess while the world is focused on Sunnydale the invasion team will sneak up behind."

Willow nodded in understanding, but frowned. "Okay, so what? What are they invading, Bar? Do they really think that elves are going to do the trick?"

He shook his head. "No, they're going to use something else. One of the scientists ran off with a layout before I could take him down."

She looked up at him. "I thought you said there was nowhere to go?"

He shrugged and pointed to the door to the left. "They've put in an exit since I was last here."

A voice called out from behind the truck. "Teufel Personnel, we're moving in! Step away from the door and put your hands up!"

"It's time; get to the other door, see if we can use it."

Baringold nodded and tossed an arrow to Willow as they split in different directions, Willow heading for the truck and Baringold already at the door.

The witch jumped through the door of the bunker truck, spotting the security on the other side, getting ready to push it out of the way. Quickly she moved to the back, twisting open the cap of a drum and sticking the the wooden arrow inside. Once again pulling out Riley's lighter she lit the tip of the wood and her eyes widened as she saw how fast the flame moved. Moving back to the front she jumped out of the truck entrance, stuffing the metal lighter back in her pocket. An officer saw her and threw open the passenger side door, firing his gun at her.

But Willow was already out of the way, careening down the aisles of cubicles and hiding elves who fired their own guns at her as she passed, with Baringold signaling for her to hurry. The truck blew behind her, screams of the guards and cubicle workers drowned out by the roar of the explosion, plaster blowing up as it neared the running figure of Willow. She reached the door and slammed it shut, but as the fire reached them it blew the door off of it's freezing hinges, throwing Willow to the ground nearby.

Baringold helped her pick herself up and dusted her off. She shook the debris and dust out of her shoulder-length hair and looked at Baringold expectantly, breathing heavily. "So...now what?"

Bar nodded and pulled out a map of Teufel he'd taken off of the table. "This is a layout of the lower levels." He said as they slid into an icy nook away from the remains of the War Room. "They've been doing some construction work, as you can probably see. A lot of the rooms aren't completed. But above that level is the jail. That's where you'll find you're girl."

Nodding, she pointed to a particularly large room. "What's this?"

"Don't know for sure. I'm betting it's where they're keeping the invasion team."

Sighing and pressing her jacket against her two adjacent wounds, Willow motioned for them move. Without a word more they began to run down the halls, screams and sounds of bullets coming closer as Baringold's brethren pressed inwards.

**33. Alert**

Sethiroph opened the door to Security Control and glanced around, spotting the ensign waiting patiently for him at the main terminal. He hadn't even taken care of his wound yet, the arrow still there for a fear of blood loss if removed. Other elves sat in festive colors, each at a black monitor observing the battle from various angles and positions. If and when they saw weak spots in the formations where Liberation Elves were leaking through they would call in reinforcements to that area. The soothing hum of all the machinery was music to the Commander's ears.

The two personal saluted each other.

"What's the situation, Depros?" Sethiroph asked, losing the titles as present company was only him and a lower officer.

"Not good, sir. They continue to batter at our defenses while pouring in through broken fans in the ventilation systems. We've turned on the still-operable fans and that's seemed to have taken care of the problem, but we're losing a lot of our forces. Sir." The elf seemed out of breath and a bit fazed.

Sethiroph nodded. "Okay, retreat."

Ensign Depros' eyes widened in shock and he swallowed, but nonetheless only said, "Yes sir, Commander."

The fairy/elf smiled. "Have them lead the opposition to the weaponry storage, we just got some more deliveries today. They won't know what hit them."

Depros nodded, grinning. "Yes sir."

As he saluted and moved to leave Seth caught him by the shoulder. "Oh and go to the medic with that thing after sending out the orders."

Once he'd gone Sethiroph whooped in the air. He was a being of a respectable nature, and had to act that way when in the company of others who mattered even in the slightest bit, but he loved to tear lose every once in a while. Jeneva had been clean and thorough, taking every job with the same enthusiasm as her last, basically none. Tonight's mission had been killer. He'd gotten to take the form of two people, the revenge demon and the guardian watching the Key. Now he was itching to pop someone else, to enter the fray and take them all out kicking and screaming.

His bloodlust rose and it was decided, he'd go down to the entrances and fight along side the elves who had so loyally followed him and his sister. At a thought he walked over to one of the control panels that was keeping track of the chasm. The darkness had disappeared and the bodies were no longer strapped up. He took the transistor mike and switched it on. He wanted to test out the new recruits...

**34. Winter Wonderland (The Next Escape)**

Tara sighed, looking around the white cell room as she laid upon the bed. She reached out a hand and gracefully ran her fingers down the ice and rock. Outside she could hear the distant sound of fighting, but she hadn't really noticed it until someone had run into the room and told the small elf (she couldn't believe it when she saw him, a _real_ elf sitting there) guarding the jails that there was a battle and they needed him.

So now she was all alone. Her mind wandered to what Willow was doing right now. Tara hadn't the slightest idea how she'd wound up here or even if she'd live through the night, though she felt that she could trust Jack to his word. He seemed completely and tragically infatuated with her, which she had to admit was nice despite the fact that she loved women (and only one woman at that) and he wanted to open up the gates of hell and rule the world. But at the moment she was really missing Willow. Tara knew her smell and could easily imagine running her fingers through her hair, but she didn't know if she'd ever even see her love again.

Something roared to life underneath her, causing Tara to yelp and jump off of the bed. A steady flow of air now rushed up and around the room, running against the bed blocking it's route. Tara realized that there was a vent underneath the bed, one of the vents Jack had mentioned. For some reason she couldn't explain she got to her feet and put a hand on either side of the bed, pulling it away from the wall and fully uncovering the grill beneath.

Examining it, she noted that the opening was blocked by the grill, which was placed down by four screws. A quick tug with her nails proved useless, the screws were in too tight. She hit the vent in frustration and as a result Jack's pin fell off her sweater, hitting the grill.

She stared down at the pin for a second and smiled.

* 

Minutes later she tossed the pin aside, it's sharp point now blunted and bent beyond use (not that she'd wear it again anyway) and hooked her fingers into the slats of the vent, lifting it open. She could see gray walls in the narrow space and some white snow here and there. Looking closer at the snow she saw that it was quickly being pulled to the left, meaning that it would be treacherous for her to lose her grip or slip if she were to traverse the ventilation shaft. But she had no other choice.

Dipping into the shaft, she held her breath, immediately feeling the pull of the fans grasp somewhere beyond in the darkness. She decided to go in the opposite direction direction of the fan, to the right, as she would try to find her way out of this place. Pulling the vent closed behind her, she grimaced as the shaft's walls hugged tightly at her hips. One thing Willow constantly was saying to her was that she loved the width of her hips, but this was one of many instances in which Tara wished she had Willow's small, light frame.

Ignoring that which could not be helped, Tara pulled herself onwards down the darkness of the shaft, hoping she wasn't heading straight into the path of a fan too large to get away from.

**35. Parting Ways**

"Bar, hurry!" Willow shouted from the other side of the room. She had no idea that anyone would be firing lasers, and as blue lightening streaked crazily, melting the ice around them, Willow prayed that she wouldn't be blind-sided by a ray while waiting for Baringold to run across the room. She wasn't and soon afterwards the elf stood before her, his muscles bunched beneath his small blue bodysuit/uniform and his long hair disheveled.

"What now?" She asked as they continued trotting down the hallway.

He breathed heavily and checked the map, then looked back up at her. They now stood at an intersection of sorts. One stairwell directly north, corridors in every other cardinal direction. "This is it. To the left and down to what should be the invasion room or up and to the right to the jail."

Willow swallowed, looking up and nodding. She took a step forward but Baringold grabbed her shoulder. "I have a better idea."

She frowned and looked back at him. "What do you mean? There isn't much time left-"

"Exactly," he said, and she could see the fire in his eyes. "That's why you have to go down."

Her eyes widened. "What?!"

"You have to go down, I'll get your girl, Tara was her name?"

"Yes, but-"

He tightened his grip. "Please! I'm no match for whatever's down there, I'll take the girl to the outside, guard her with my life. But I can't take the pressure Willow, it's too much and I'm...I'm not you."

He let her go and she stepped backwards, stunned. "I-I, I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll do it, Willow, tell me you'll save the world. I'd go down there with you but as you said there is not much time and that means one of us must save Tara."

Willow looked up again, torn between having a chance to stop the invasion and finding Tara. She trusted Baringold, but...

She shook her head. "I can't, I'm sorry-"

"NO, you must! I understand, there is something between you and this girl, but say you do find her, and I go down there, killing myself. Then you'll have but few precious moments left with each other before everything comes crashing down, when instead you could put your faith in me to get her out there and stop the invasion yourself so that you'll be able to spend however much longer you would wish with her!" He stepped up to her, desperation tight in his aura. "Think in days, Willow, not in hours. Think in life, not in moments. Your decision is your decision, but it will not only determine the outcome of your own relationship and your own life, but that of _every other being_ on this planet! Willow, please...think in _life_!"

Willow bit her lip, her eyes locking on the stairwell leading up. She could only be so far away from her...

"Seconds girl, they pass by us quickly!"

Something flashed in Willow's brain and she stepped up to the elf, looking down into his eyes. "If she dies in here, so will you."

He nodded, an uneasy grin playing on his face. "As I am not planning on dying today, she will live."

Willow took off, not looking back, the bulge in her pockets and the back of her denim jacket only showing that on the outside, this frail looking girl had changed in what she kept in her attire, when the real transformation was growing from within, from the scars on her hands to the bullet wounds in the side of her midsection; the true girl inside was not and never would be the same. Baringold smiled, wishing her luck silently before heading up the staircase.

**36. The Loading Dock**

Xander's breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled get another clip from his back pocket while keeping hold of the Uzi, which he was playing tug-of-war with between himself and two security elves. Meanwhile, he could hear Spike somewhere behind him, blowing away elf after elf.

"Spike!" He called out. "A little help here?"

But the English vampire didn't hear him in his trigger-happy state. One of the elves trying to get Xander's gun nodded to the other, and they both let go at the same time, causing Xander to fall backwards beneath a giant crate. He kicked out with one foot and connected in the the left elf's gut, putting him down for the moment. He finally got a hold on the clip in his pocket and brought it out, just as the second elf was raising his gun to Xander's forehead.

Xander stopped his assault, staring into the chamber of the small gun. One had nicked him in the side of his arm a while back, so he knew they weren't that bad in non-vital areas, but a shot in the head would kill him nonetheless. The elf grinned, nodding his head and showing off his sharp white teeth.

"Merry Christmas, asshole," the elf sneered, his finger pulling at the trigger. Something blue flashed in the corner of Xander's eye, and before either of them knew what was going on a ray of what might've been electricity shot through the security elf's mid-section. Warm blood spilled out on both sides of the wound, which had cut through the elf like a knife through butter.

Xander quickly got up to his feet, slapping the clip in the submachine gun and shooting the other elf as it finally caught it's breath, then fixed his gaze on the creature in blue that had saved his life. It was an elf as well, one of the ones he had been shooting down with the rest of them. The elf smiled at him and saluted, turning around, moving around another crate. Suddenly Spike turned the opposite corner of the same crate, and before Xander could shout out in protest a very large hole appeared appeared in the back of the elf's skull, brain matter covering the floor beneath him.

"Jesus, Spike no!"

The vampire looked up at him, a curious expression crossing his face.

"Spike, don't shoot them!" Xander yelled as he caught sight of two more blue-suited elves coming up behind Spike, their ray guns aimed at his head. "Aww, shit! Spike, DUCK!"

He jumped to the floor, waiting for the gunfire, but the elves saw Xander's Uzi aimed at them and drew back, then once they'd gotten past the crate they ran off out of sight. Xander sighed and ran up to Spike, slamming a foot hard into the vampire's gut.

His platinum blonde head curled up as Spike cried out and groaned, rolling from side to side. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?!"

"The elves in blue, don't shoot them. They're not after us, they're against the others."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Spike whined, holding his stomach.

Xander shrugged. "You weren't, the kick was getting you back for waking me up like that."

He held out a hand and Spike, giving him a look that told him to watch his back, took it, rising back to his feet. "All right, what now?"

Xander shook his head in dismay. "I don't know, this place his huge. I know how to get back to the portals from here, but we have to look further. I know Dawn is here, but maybe the others are still in Sunnydale."

"Well, where would they keep the munchkin? And why her? She's only a bite-sized snack."

"I'm not sure...maybe we should split up."

"Hey, I'd be all for it if I'd known to map this place out like you did. But more to the point, you get yourself killed and I'm lost in Candyland. No, I think it's better if you stick with me."

Xander smirked. "You mean, you stick with me."

Just then a large patrol of the elves in blue came through a crate-size door to the north of them, all loaded to the teeth. Xander thought for a moment and put his hands up, nudging Spike to do the same.

"We're on your side," Xander called out, a friendly smile on his face.

But the elves just stared at him, each seeming to wait for a command. They stood there a moment longer, and just as he felt Spike lean over to say something, Riley and a very large elf with wings came in behind the force. Xander broke out into a huge grin of relief and started running towards the force, waving.

"Hey, Riley!"

At this point Spike noticed things getting very weird. Soldier-boy did not even acknowledge Xander's existence, whereas the large fairy/elf looked completely shocked to see him. And the blue elves just stood there, the same strange hazy look in their eyes that Riley held. Spike had seen it somewhere before, and was going to warn Xander to stop and observe the situation.

But Xander didn't need to be told. He skidded to a halt next to a red and white forklift and frowned, examining his friend. "Riley?" But the other man continued to stare straight forward.

"So," Xander heard the big half fairy, half elf say. "You survived."

Xander's frown grew into one of shock as for some reason this voice struck a chord in his recent memory, which was still fogged a bit by the crash. Glancing back he saw Spike looking at him, also apprehensive. Xander turned to face the Elf. "I-I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He grinned, signaling to his army of blue without answering Xander. "Kill them both."

Xander's eyes widened as the elves brought up their guns, and he quickly jumped into the temporary cover of the forklift, losing sight of Spike. Bullets tore through the glass above him, sprinkling it down onto his jacket and pants as he crawled to the driver's side. One glance around the front seat told him how likely it was going to be to find a key, but maybe he could jump start the large machine...

* 

Spike latched onto the crate next to him, vaulting on top of it. He had two of the small bullets swimming around in his gut and another had just torn off the top of his pinky, and yet he howled not with rage but with pleasure. This was what he lived for. He longed every day for the pain he was feeling now, the type of torture he and Dru would constantly put each other through, only now he got it without all of the emotional baggage. He could finally cut loose, take out his gun, bare his fangs and kill without a second thought or a pain in his head from that damn chip.

As one of the elves ran by he snaked a hand down, grabbing the creature by the nape of its neck and, with his super-human strength, pulling it up. As it screamed he sunk his teeth into it's jugular, tearing in and sucking the blood out, shaking his head vigorously as he felt the life slip out of his prey. He always had been somewhat of a messy eater.

Something roared up behind him and Spike looked back to see a red and white forklift, covered with elves in blue uniform. It turned and jerked forward as a few of the elves made it through the windshield, other slamming against it's bumper and still others being crushed underneath the tires.

He wiped his mouth, enjoying the feel of hot blood boiling down his throat and into his stomach, grinning as he felt the bumps and ridges on his face. Xander was inside the vehicle, struggling with the little bastards. Maybe, just maybe he'd let him die, sit there and get filled up with the tiny lead bullets until his eyes turned all glassy and his flesh grew cold.

...But while Spike would like that very much, he knew Buffy wouldn't. And if she showed up, he wouldn't be able to hide the fact that he hadn't saved Xander when he'd had the chance. So he grabbed one of the hooks used for lifting crates like the one he was on and jumped into the air, swinging like Tarzan until he rammed up against the big machine, a dull thud announcing his presence, his shotgun slipping from his grasp and falling all the way down, smacking a few elves in landing.

Hearing climbing behind him and expecting another tasty elf-treat to pop it's head up, he was caught off guard by the human fist that slammed into his face, cracking against his jawbone. Spike jumped to his feet and his eyes widened as Riley climbed up next to him, any trace of humanity gone from his eyes. Spike threw a punch into the man's gut and a sharp pain shot through his head, so vile that it rendered Spike incapable of even screaming. Apparently, the chip still considered Riley a human...

He reached down and grabbed Spike by the throat, clasping his fingers tight to maintain his grip as he swung the other man forty-five degrees to the right. Now Spike's feet dangled in the air, and he looked down to see many of the elves staring straight back up at him, their guns at the ready. They couldn't kill him like that, his wounds would heal, and the fall itself from the top of the forklift would only hurt so much, but in the space of time it would take for him to recover from the blows it would be very easy for someone to stick a peace of wood from one of the crates into his heart.

* 

Looking up, Xander kicked two more elves out of the now moving vehicle and trained his Uzi on the door and the windshield, but he only had one clip left after this one, and the small nemeses continued to pour through. He had to find a way out.

Suddenly, a whooshing sound entered his ears followed by a giant crash against the top of the vehicle, and he looked out to see Spike's jacket and feet disappear over the top. He stopped the machine for a moment, looking around for any possible exit. There was only a very, very large crate to the left, and many more of the same variety behind him. A wall canceled much more movement forward, which only left the option of moving right.

A sharp pain shot through his elbow, and he looked down to see an otherwise unarmed elf biting into his flesh. Xander lifted the Uzi to the temple of the creature and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over everything inside of the forklift, including Xander.

He wiped the thick red liquid from his eyes and bent down to recross the wires, starting the machine back up. By now he could hear heavy struggling from up above, and going for broke he took the only option he could. He turned the middle lever on the vehicle's control panel to the right and did the same with the wheel, the forklift lurching harshly to response. His days of working on construction sites was finally paying off.

* 

Riley lost his balance on the top of the forklift as it jerked to the right, both he and and Spike falling onto the large crate next to it. Spike, seizing the chance to escape, got to his feet before Riley and started looking for some way off of the crate that didn't involve jumping and risking a broken something, whatever part of his anatomy he landed with.

But the human was fast, and impossibly so. The darkness inside of him reigned, and Riley lashed out at Spike while still on his stomach, the vampire crashing onto the wood as a result. Before Spike could get out of his grasp, Riley yanked at the back of his head, grabbing his slick short hair and slamming his face into the wood, breaking it through the crate.

An explosion went through Spike's brain, but as he opened his eyes his mind was still functioning properly enough to register the oddity of what was inside. Countless sleighs, all seemingly different in color but the same in every other aspect._ Why?_

He had no more time to ponder of the situation as he was picked bodily up by a raging ex-soldier with darkness pulsing through his veins. Though Spike struggled valiantly he was thrown back to the top of the crate, groaning in pain (no longer so pleasurable as he began to fear for his afterlife) while feeling the wood shift and crack underneath him. Riley rolled him offer and picked up one particularly large broken slat of wood and raised his hand over Spike.

The vampire saw this and at the last moment rolled off of the large crate, falling headfirst downwards straight through a rusty metal grate that led to the temperature control room regulating the air of the floor below that. He'd gained such a momentum that he broke through the ice in that small room as well, landing on his back two floors down from where he'd fallen.

* 

Xander heard a very loud crashing sound but the forklift didn't have any rear windows to look from. He could now see a way out, though. Only a few elves were guarding that door, and many of them were already engaged in battle with the blue-suited elves that hadn't gone haywire. He pressed down on the third lever until the forklift was going at about thirty-five miles an hour, the top speed for the large machine before it would snap it's gears, breath out some exhaust and die on him.

Suddenly, someone very large and blue jumped onto his side of the forklift, grabbing a handful of his shirt and entering the vehicle with him. It was the blue fairy/elf, rage filling his eyes. Xander looked up at him, afraid and curious as he seemed to know something Xander didn't.

"Don't you remember me, Xander?" He asked in a voice that quickly gained a higher pitch, sounding very familiar to the young man. His wings fluttered powerfully and he smiled, ripping the Uzi from Xander's left hand and turning, looking outside the windshield and aiming. The weapon then rattled out shot after shot, first taking out the blue fighters at the door, then every other elf in sight until it clicked, empty.

"My name is Sethiroph, now sole lord of the Dark Elves."

He threw the gun outside as the forklift continued to move quickly, the beasts movements causing the wheel to turn sharply. Xander gasped for breath with his opponents hand on his throat, but for some reason Sethiroph loosened his grip. Their faces mere inches from each other, the man's blue features suddenly morphed as he grinned, and for just a moment Anya was there, smiling darkly at him.

"It took a while to kill her," his enemy whispered, his face his own once again, full of malice. "She screamed for you throughout, but you weren't there. She cried for you even when I took out her eyes and tongue."

Xander turned his face away, trying to shun the image of Anya, tears streaming down her face until her beautiful eyes were ripped from their sockets. Blood collecting in her mouth from where her tongue used to be.

"I'll tell you what though, she was the best lay I ever had... even when she stopped moving." Sethiroph laughed at him, spittle flying out and hitting Xander in the face.

He screamed, reaching around the fair/elf and taking control of the wheel, slamming them straight into and through a wall of rock and ice. Sethiroph tried to jump but Xander grabbed onto him in a bear hug and they went through together.

They'd landed in a hidden stream in the mountain, and no matter how much heat the portal diagnostics had put into them, it couldn't prepare them for the icy blackness of the water, chunks of ice floating along as well. Both of them swam out of the fast sinking forklift as the stream rushed them away; down, down, down in to the murky depths of the mountain.

**37. Run-ins and Close Calls******

Tara sighed, looking back from the way she had come. Travel had been annoying the first five minutes, exhausting the next, and now she didn't know if she could make it much further without giving up and kicking in the next grate she saw and risking the battling going on beneath her. At least down there she'd have some room to move around.

She turned another corner, wondering which way to go next. Right now it felt like every turn was the same, every grate leading down always straight into certain death, and every two minutes there was another fan pulling her body in one direction while she struggled to go in the other. The way Tara figured it, if nothing came up soon she really _would_ go down. Anything was better then being stuck up in these ventilation shafts.

* 

Willow opened one of the many doors in the lower level, a bit of snowy dust falling down into her frizzled hair. The room she had just entered was small and thankfully elfless, and was probably able to fit a maximum of three of four really thin people inside of its rocky and ice-layered walls.

Three computer monitors were here, each detailing screens holding hundreds of very small moving images. She couldn't see a mouse anywhere, so Willow pressed a finger on one of the monitors itself, and was rewarded with an enlargement of the image she had pointed to.

Willow frowned at what she saw.

* 

Baringold stopped for a moment at the door of the jail, peeking around bow and arrow first to cheek and make sure no one was on watch. The admission desk was empty. Grinning, Bar called out in a friendly tone.

"Hello, is anyone here?"

No one was. Willow's chick Tara wasn't in any of the cells. He was beginning to grow worried when something on the floor bit through his pointed shoe into the soft underside of his foot. He yelped and withdrew the pin, examining it. Jack Frost (asshole) was on the front, sticking up his thumbs and giving his normal shit-eating grin. But what interested Baringold was the bent side of the pin's needle.

He looked into the cell the pin had been thrown clear of and on closer inspection found that the bed had been moved and the grill unscrewed. He grinned, whispering to himself.

"Clever girl..."

* 

Spike opened his eyes, groaning and reaching up to wipe snow and debris off his face. Pain shot through his arm and up his side so badly that Spike thought he was going to die, then almost laughed. But he suppressed the humor, knowing that laughing would only increase the pain.

Something moved in the vent above him, and any trace of a smile left Spike's face. Looking up through the two holes he'd made in the ceilings, Spike could see that way up high, Riley was no longer on the crate. Probably long gone. Maybe he wanted to come have a rematch and considered the best way was through the vents!

Spike got to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the pain he was feeling all over his body. Looking around, he remembered he lost his shotgun in the heat of battle. At least that's how he liked to think of it. Much better losing your weapon 'in the heat of battle' than 'imitating Tarzan'. The thing in the vent shifted again, and Spike examined his surroundings for anything useful.

Among the rather impressive amount of small dead bodies he spotted one of the nifty ray guns lying in the blood encrusted hand of an elf.

* 

By the seventh try on the third monitor Willow gave up on seeing anything special or even remotely useful to her. They were all different shots and angles of fans, some blowing, some not, and still some completely blown out. The blown out ones left a creepy looking hole that no doubt lead outside of Teufel Mountain. She'd hate to get sucked out into that mess.

Looking down, she noticed a red button on the keyboard that she guessed controlled the fan system. She knew that one of the major rules of survival in situations like this was that you never, ever push the attractive red button.

She pushed it.

* 

Tara screamed as the blue ray of light shot up through the metal next to her head. As she tried to regain control of her nerves someone called out beneath her.

"Tara, 'sthat you pet?"

Tara nodded to herself. "S-Spike?"

Below her, Spike grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Never thought I'd say this but I'm glad to see you."

Tara laughed nervously. "S-same-"

She screamed again as something moved in the darkness behind her, traveling at an incredible rate. Whatever it was seemed intent on catching up to her.

"All right, I know!" Spike shouted, "I stopped shooting, okay?"

But then he too heard the noise, followed by a high-pitched voice, his eyes widening as he heard the velocity of the object racing up to her. He scratched his head. "Can you go any faster in that thing luv? It might be a good idea right about now."

She screamed again, and Spike held his hands to his head. He was beginning to wish she'd stop doing that. He then heard her body started to thump along the vent very quickly. "That's not good." He picked up the pace and began to run along with the noise she was making.

* 

Baringold had known of lesbians for a while. He had a fairly good eye for them, seeing as how the one female elf he'd had his heart set on since after his birthling stage was of that nature. He'd caught her and a fairy from the next village over (he'd thought they had just been good friends) getting hot and heavy in the boiler room of the main generator that had powered his village. He'd been doing some work for his father when he'd seen them. From that point on he'd known lesbians on the spot, but Willow had been different. She didn't seem to fit the category, and yet she did.

Tara on the other hand, was practically a poster image for it. It's something in the eyes, he guessed. A sort of quality that others just didn't hold. That and the attire, of course. He loved traveling in the vents, it was one of the things elves did best. Grab, pull, repeat. And with their great night vision and smell, it took very little time for Bar to catch up with Willow's love.

Still, it caught him off guard when she started to scream. He'd called out to her, but she hadn't heard. He figured it would be best if he caught up to her and fixed the situation. Then she screamed again and started moving quickly away from him in a fashion that he had no problem admitting creeped him out. But when the draft and suction caught him and he too began to fly forwards, he realized what was going on. The elf controlling the fan must have spotted them and hit the 'clean' button. It's purpose was simply that. To clear out everything and anything in the vents by using ultimate suction, straight through the fans.

* 

Tara heard the thing behind her begin to scream as well, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She'd never wanted or wished anything dead, not even her family or Santa or Oz, but right now she was getting the oddest feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something in her brain was saying _Good, if I'm going, so is the freak behind me._ But every other part of her body was simply trying to get hold of something, and if she had the chance she would save both her life and that of her pursuers.

"Grab onto one of the grills as it goes by!" Spike yelled to her.

"Th-the suction's to strong, it won't help! Oh no, I can see the f-fan; It's coming up!"

Spike growled, noting that sure enough, the wall ended not too far up ahead. Realizing that he had to take the initiative, Spike picked up speed (though it was killing him to do so) and spotted the next grill. When he came to it he suddenly veered to the left, running up a slippery wall and vaulting off of it up and through the grill. Just in time to be socked into by a fast-moving Tara.

Tara saw Spike for only second before she heard him "OOF!" as grab hold of her. They both, fighting the suction of the fan, tumbled down to the mountain floor below.

Baringold zoomed by them, his feet crashing into the grill and ripping it completely off. Now he traveled like a bullet, so thin and small that none of his body actually touched the walls of the shaft, his hair whipping about behind him. He was in a ball now, both of his hands clutching the grill and his feet placed on it for whatever meager protection it might provide.

But he knew better. The fans were much too powerful and moved too fast to be stopped by a grill.

* 

As Willow was about to leave the control room through it's other door, into what she hoped would be the invasion room, she turned. Pressing the red button seemed wrong somehow. She reached over and pressed it again, but to her alarm the machine began to beep at her. The monitors all blacked out and a simple message read

MAXIMUM SPEED: SYSTEM OVERLOAD

Shrugging, Willow left the room. The more chaos, the more damage to this mountain facility, the better.

* 

Baringold shrieked as the skin on his face rippled, his small body soaring through the darkness at incredible speed. He didn't notice that the fan was smoking, it's power source dead. Not that it would be enough anyway, the fan was still spinning and he was still moving at the speed of a bullet.

He roared down the shaft and slammed into the fan, obliterating it and sailing out into open air for about ten seconds. Then he landed and all went black.

**38. Invasion (Santas)******

Jack listened to the gentle hiss of the door close behind him and sighed, flexing his joints and cracking his knuckles. This was it. Diablo was now sacrificing the girl, Nicholas was packing up to leave the premises, Sethiroph was god-knows-where and he himself was right where he belonged. In the heart of this operation, his own brainstorm. He'd been told by many that the elves loved his ingenious plan to help Nick retire, but in the last couple of days he'd been feeling otherwise.

In any case, it was of no importance to him. Jack Frost was Jack Frost, leader of the world, ruler of the free and the slaves. At least he soon would be.

Looking around, he smiled. This was his favorite place to be in all of Teufel. It had taken quite a long while to complete. The days had turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years and so on and so forth. But now it was finished, and the fruits of his labor would be there for him very soon. He walked along the catwalks looking down all the time and examining his and the elves fabulous, flawless work.

* 

The first thing Willow saw was the pods. Hundreds upon thousands, probably even millions of them on the floor about twenty yards below the catwalk. The room was bigger then on the map. It probably spanned half of the lowest level of the mountain, ranging as far as Willow's eyes could see. And so did the pods.

But it was what was inside the pods that made everything so much more frightening to her. They were all filled with green water and looked like incubation tubes. She finally understood what was going on (at least, part of it). She now knew what they were going to invade the world with.

Santas... Millions of them, each the size of the real thing, each round and horrid in the face. They were exact replicas of what Kringle had looked like when she'd first met him, all the way back in Buffy's dorm room. She walked along the catwalk in awe,

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

Willow turned, reaching for her pistols.

"Ah-ah-ahh," Jack said as she spotted him, a gun already pointed at her and his finger waving in the air. "That wouldn't be the smartest of choices."

Willow grimaced, her gaze focused on Jack. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He smiled. "Spreading joy and merriment. The Santas will run across the world, capturing every town and city and village."

"When?"

His smile grew wider. "Tonight."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Alright, I'm dying to know what you think, please tell me. I know the story's more action than horror in this chapter, but do not fear. A harrowing, hopefully frightening end is in sight as we only have one more chapter left. I-I think I'm gonna cry...

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)

---And yet somehow, I just can't seem to care.


	6. The Rest Of The Night

  
Disclaimer- JW&WB own rights. I don't. Happy Kwanzaa. Though I seriously doubt anyone celebrating Kwanzaa will be reading this.

Summary- It's Christmas Eve, and there wasn't anything better to do than take out the big fat bastard with the toys. Pleasant Holidays.

Spoilers- Season 5. Dradle, dradle, dradle. I'd say Happy Hanukah, but it's a little late for that. Happy belated Hanukah.

Rating- R for sex, gore, profanity, violence. I love the Christians; they just don't love me.

Feedback- Backfeed. I think that's a religion in and of itself, backfeeding. Just depends on what part of the back your feeding and what's going in it.

_Author's Notes-_ Horror story. Not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it. Merry Christmas. This is belated too, though.   
________________________________________________________________________________________

Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike   
________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 5

**39. Invasion (The Beginning of the End)**

Her hands itching to get to the flame-thrower in the lining of her denim jacket, Willow continued walking backwards along the catwalk. The man had taken her pistols and, having no use for them himself, thrown them over the side. They'd fallen the full twenty or so feet down before clattering to the metal grating beneath. She noted that the twin guns disappeared between two incubation pods holding the clones of Santa inside. The bodies of the clones floated in bright-green water, the occasional bubble rising up around them.

"Turn around." The man said, motioning with his gun that she do so.

Willow stood her ground, furrowing her brows. "How do I know you won't shoot me in the back?"

Her enemy smiled handsomely. "I want to show you something. Now turn."

Willow did an about-face and continued walking, knowing that all along his gun would still be pointing at her head. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the metal of the catwalk, and a gust of cold air blew across Willow's face, her hair swaying. She shivered and realized that the freezing temperatures of the mountain were beginning to effect her. That, added with the fact that she'd been shot twice, captured, and lost her guns told Willow that her luck was running out. It was time to start thinking about how she was going to get out of this place.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking (but couldn't have been any more than fifteen minutes) she spotted a structure in the distance and heard him chuckle behind her. It looked to be the core of the underground system, energy floating freely throughout it's structure. As they grew closer she saw electricity crackling every once in a while from a few of the cords. It looked like a giant transparent-green hourglass with black metal coverings. It would have been a bit more awe-inspiring had Willow not been so desperately contriving a way out of her dilemma.

A few minutes later they reached the opening of the structure and Jack extracted a security card from within his jacket, swiping it through the reader and punching in a code with his slender fingers. It beeped for a moment before a panel opened in the wall. He smiled at her.

"Check this out," he said with flourish, eager to show off the device.

He put one side of his face against the slightly frozen panel and waited as a red laser beam traveled down, running along his iris and reading the results. Another beep emitted and a few clicks resounded throughout the hollow underground before the massive double-doors slid open in a whir.

He looked at her with one eye, his smile remaining as he rubbed his other, the one he had put in front of the panel. "Like having someone shine the sun in your eye, but I'll be damned if there's a better way of securing your projects." With that he gently pushed her inside and the doors closed behind them.

* 

Willow grimaced as she struggled with the bonds, but they were wrapped too tightly for her to break free. She had been tied to one of the cylindrical support beams inside the core, her wrists bound with coil her enemy had gotten from a nearby maintenance box. He stood before her now with his back turned, hunched over a monitor as he typed vigorously.

When he stopped he seemed apprehensive, and turned to glance at her for a moment.

"You...You wouldn't happen to be named Willow, would you?"

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Yes, so?"

He shook his head. "I should've guessed it when I first saw you."

It dawned on her as to how he might've found out. "Did you talk to Tara? Where is she?"

He waved one hand at her nonchalantly. "Relax, she's fine. I've locked her up to protect her." He looked up. "Ah, that reminds me. I should bring along an extra syringe for when the heating effects wear off."

_So Baringold had been right, that was where he took her._ Willow smiled in spite of her situation, her hopes increasing as to Tara making it out okay.

He saw her smile and walked over to her. "My name's Jack Frost. If you were to be alive in an hour, I'd be your new leader. But as it is, I can't even shake your hand." He said, referencing to his job with the ropes. He seemed quite proud of it actually. "Now I know what your thinking. Your thinking, 'How is he going to pull this off?'"

Willow said nothing, instead letting Jack continue to divulge in her his plan. "Well it's simple really. In the beginning Diablo was locked safely away from the world in another plane of existence called 'The Hellmouth'. From there he performed various necessities of evil and fought the forces of good. But eventually The Powers That Be grew angry with humans such as yourself and merged the two worlds, creating a whole new realm for Diablo to work in. But to make sure he didn't destroy the world entirely The Powers built a crystal labyrinth beneath a hollow mountain in the coldest place on earth. They then put a spell on the mountain, now known as Teufel, to keep it hidden from the humans.

"To make sure that the beings that inhabited the earth were kept in check, The Powers allowed Diablo freedom to let his reign of terror conspire in one town. As I'm sure you've guessed, that's Sunnydale. Anyway, it's needless to say that Diablo has become bored with this arrangement and seeks to rule the entire world. So over the past thousand years we've been preparing, building temples that would one day act as portals, portals through which we would invade the earth. And Diablo's greatest warrior, the man who's claimed more souls in his existence than any other, was cloned so that his power would be known throughout the universe."

Jack grinned at this and put up a finger. "Hang on, there's something else I want you to see."

He walked over to a box beside the monitor and pulled out a key from inside his jacket. Looking back to make sure she was watching, Jack unlocked the box and opened its lid. He then smiled and withdrew a strange red crystal that shined in the cover of his palm.

Willow blinked. "What does it do?"

"It's a sign of power which only the Santas can understand. They sense that whoever holds the crystal is second only to Diablo himself...and that they'll follow the beholder's every command. Of course, they'll follow blindly that whom they were cloned after as well." He shrugged as though he was nonchalant about the whole thing, but the excitement in his eyes and shortness of his breath belied his true feelings. "Seems fitting, seeing as how I created them myself."

A hiss of steam released from a nearby pipe valve and Willow jerked in place, feeling the coil tighten at her wrists. She would try the flame incarnation but she knew that she'd burn her skin as well. The knots were too tightly looped for her to simply levitate them undone. She'd have to think of something else, and fast. At a far corner of the room Willow caught sight of what looked to be an elevator. Unfortunately, even if she were to somehow free herself and get to it, a pad on the side noted that a security code was needed.

Something beeped on the monitor and it broke Frost's gaze upon the crystal. He smoothed out his jacket and pants, running a hand through his thick head of hair. "Well," he said, "This is it."

"What is?" Willow asked as she saw him near the computer.

"I'm going to release the Santas now. They'll make their way to the portals, destroying everything in their path except for each other and myself. My guess is that you won't last anymore than five minutes. It should be a quick death, I haven't programmed them to be as merciless as Nick."

"Yeah, well how do you expect to get out of here? It's a long way back and while they may not kill you directly, any damage done to the catwalk while you're on it..." Willow was deliberately stalling him but she was also hoping to learn if there was a faster way out.

He nodded, smiling. "You're right, but don't think for a second that I didn't plan out every step."

He walked over to a large shutter Willow had missed in her observance of the place and pulled up on it, revealing the rubber tire of some machine hidden inside. He entered the compartment and wheeled it out. It looked like a supped-up Harley Davidson motorcycle, with black metal covering both wheels and a chain gun attached to the front. Willow even thought she saw some sort of jet propulsion system attached to the back. Either that or the vehicle had three exhaust pipes and on odd hump on it's tail.

"This is my beauty... I call her Frost." He said this as though he was divulging an embarrassing secret about his only child.

"Gee, I wonder why."

Jack looked up at her, slightly miffed at her attitude. He walked over to the monitor and typed in a few last commands before pressing Enter. A warning came up on the computer and he bypassed it. Willow watched every move he made, looking around his shoulder at the syntax he used, hoping to escape and decode it directly after he left.

Suddenly a noise could be heard from below, millions of loud _clacks_ like something massive was being opened. _The Pods_...

Jack turned and smiled at her once more, getting onto his cycle and running a hand through his hair. "I'd give you a button but unfortunately I'm all out. Just remember, I'm your number one guy." He winked. "Have a good night, Willow. I'll send Tara your regards."

With this he turned the key already in place and the engine rumbled to life. He pressed down on the release and up on the accelerator, rolling slowly over to the mechanical door and performing one more retinal scan before the door opened. He sped off; the door whooshing closed behind him.

Below her, she could hear the noise of the Santas as they escaped their chambers and were quickly making their way up the supports to the catwalks. This situation confirmed Willow's suspicions. Her luck was definitely running out. But it was with the groaning of the support she was tied to that Willow truly began to fear for her life.

* 

Jack sped along the narrow path, the wind blowing through his hair and the sounds of his creations growing beneath him. If he hurried, he could get Tara and make it out of Teufel even before the sacrifice was completed and Diablo was freed from his crystal cage. A Santa jumped in front of him from the catwalk and bared his teeth. Jack sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling forth the crystal while he steered with his other hand; the creature saw it and moved aside, allowing Jack to speed on by. Inside, Jack's heart leapt into his throat. It had worked!

Behind him Jack heard something large in the control room fall in on itself and he couldn't help but grin. The girl had surely met her demise by now. But if she hadn't, there was no way of escape. Not that she knew of anyway. No, he'd done a fairly thorough job of ensuring that the plan would go perfectly and she would die without further trouble. She was surrounded in every direction by the Santas who were constantly closing in; she was tied in place and locked inside. Not even the best magician could escape the trap he'd laid out. And if she did something he thought she might, he'd left a little present for her and the rest of the inhabitants of Teufel. He didn't think it would come to that, though.

It wasn't in Jack's nature to worry about or second-guess something. After all, he was _the _Jack Frost, he was never wrong...

* 

Willow felt the support give away and the ground fall out from underneath her. One of the metal plates in the floor had been ripped away by an ambitious Santa. Had she not been tied to the pole she would've plummeted all the way down. He leered up at her from the hole and she kicked out at him, his grunt barely audible over the mass destruction. Suddenly the beam stopped groaning and started to tip backwards.

She cried out as she realized that her hands would be caught in between the beam and the floor and strained to keep it up, but was surprised when she found herself moving along the twisted support. Her feet found ground and she continued to move up. Willow craned her neck and forced back a scream at the sight of two Santas (who she saw had made holes of their own in the floor to enter the structure) who were trying to get her off of the pole, their mouths agape and looking very hungry.

The beam collapsed just as they pulled her off and began to tear at her clothing. She willingly let their hands roam over her while she freed herself from the now loosened rope. The Santa to the left had just ripped part of her shirt open, baring her soft pale skin when Willow pulled out the flame-thrower from inside the lining of the back of her jacket. Frost had been so busy tying her he hadn't even taken notice of the large, obtrusive bulk in her clothing. She pulled on the release and for the second time that night a large spout of flame spewed forth from the muzzle, covering the two clones as they howled in rage and pain.

Backing away, knowing that if they were anything like their predecessor they weren't down for the count yet, Willow turned her attention to the monitor. It was too late now to stop the Santas from getting out, she knew that, but if she could concentrate on locating the portals, she might be able to find her way back and destroy any chance of world domination at the same time.

Willow began to type out commands using the same syntax as Jack, her hacking skills aiding to the situation. Almost immediately she found a blueprint for the lower areas (it had been easier than it looked, Jack had seemingly left them out in an open file) but nothing on the level where the portals were being kept. The next few files Willow either purposefully brought up or consequently stumbled upon were nothing but accessories and planning fodder, and she had to continuously look up and release more fire to keep the red-suits at bay.

Finally she came across a file labeled

PANDORA'S BOX - THE PORTAL CONSTRUCTION SYSTEM AND PLACEMENTS

Willow was aware of the Pandora's box and it's purpose. In Greek Mythology it meant the end of the world were someone to unlock the puzzle and open the box, but she also knew that a single file couldn't do much more than wipe out the computer (which wouldn't hurt her that much). And of course, Jack had a tendency to be dramatic as she had seen. She opened the file.

A small beep occurred and Willow grinned at the layouts appearing before her. The portals were built on the fourth floor of the mountain, not to far from her own position. Now all she had to do was escape from this death trap and go up a few levels, then take it from there with chaos and destruction. But as Willow was about to turn away from the computer she noticed two things. One was an elevator shaft leading directly to and past the fourth floor. The same elevator Willow had seen just a few minutes prior. On the map, just below the shaft were the numbers five, seven, two, one and seven again. It had to be the code for either the door or the elevator and as far as she could tell the elevator didn't need a retinal scan to enter.

The other thing that grasped her attention was a small waving finger at the bottom of the screen. She launched more fire at a Santa that was getting too close and moved the mouse down to the finger, double-clicking on it.

Jack's smiling face appeared with an enlarged clock next to it, the graphic of a bomb tied around it's dial. The hands of the clock were moving. Just below the picture was the message; "Destruction of Teufel Mountain to Occur in 36 Minutes, 43 seconds and counting. Have a nice day! Signed Jack Frost, Leader of the World." Willow's eyes widened and she gasped. _The maniac is going to blow the entire place off the face of the earth!_

A sharp pain in her stomach caused Willow to grab her abdomen and grimace. On closer inspection she saw that her two bullet wounds were flaked with ice. They were undoubtedly infected by now, though no longer bleeding. The nearest Santa growled and lunged at her. Willow sidestepped his attack and quickly traveled across the room dodging more and more of the fat clones as they pushed their way inside the hourglass structure. They seemed somewhat easier to fight than the real thing, and certainly not as intelligent.

She pressed up against the elevator doors and waved a hand in front of the keypad. It began to hum with a static-filled break-up here and there. She pressed the buttons 5, 7, 2, 1 and 7 and couldn't help but jump gleefully when the entire elevator started thrumming. Unfortunately, it didn't open. A hidden panel in the wall slid open, revealing what could only be an earlier model of the retinal scanner.

Willow turned and looked around, spotting the closest Santa only a few feet from her. He seemed to be stuck in the shrapnel entrance he'd made for himself. She took a metal shard from the now littered floor and rushed over, taking advantage of him before he could get a fix on where his attacker was. Feeling reminiscent of events previous in the night, Willow jabbed the shard into the clone-Kringle's face, just below his eye. She tried to ignore the blood, pus and sinew as best she could while also dealing with the almost unbearable squeals it was making. She eventually pressed inward and up, feeling it's eyeball loosen and pop out with a sucking sound. Oddly enough, it reminded her of a wet kiss Xander had given her once.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Willow took the eyeball and went back to the elevator doors, narrowly missing a large piece of Plexiglas from a window nearby, set off by a Santa who had just crashed through. She pressed the eye against the scan and fought the bile rising in her throat, her eyes stuck on the pus and jelly-white fluid seeping out of the body part. The bloody tangle of veins that had originally connected the eye inside the skull now dangled and dripped various fluids.

The scanner beeped and the doors slowly opened, the light inside flickering on and off. She breathed out and smiled inwardly, dropping the eye (_plop_) and entering the small elevator. Inside were buttons along one wall, but to her dismay they were written in a different language. Outside Willow saw that many of the Santas had spotted her and were now rushing towards the elevator. She quickly counted down four of the ten buttons and pressed the fourth, praying that it was the right one. The doors began to close just as one Santa shot half-way in, a bit of drool flying from his mouth and hitting Willow along her face and neck.

Surprising both of them, the doors must've held more power than they showed, because instead of reopening when an object was detected the doors continued to close. The Santa and Willow both watched as his midsection was slowly cut into. His red suit became redder and he clawed at Willow's leg in pain. They began to move upwards as the metal opening closed entirely around the clone, slicing him in half. Willow thought she'd lose her hearing if the screaming and explosions didn't stop soon. But she started to scream herself when the machine fired upwards like a rocket, her stomach dropping to her feet, followed shortly by her body.

Down in the cold metal Willow could smell the stinking-hot innards sliding out of the Santa as it screeched and writhed but didn't die, instead choosing to crawl its way to her. She tried to lift herself off of the floor but she didn't have the strength. All she could do was slide backwards until she felt the wall halt any further progression. It grinned at her and stopped screaming, showing off its wide array of jagged teeth and halitosis to her. Its long dead and flaking-blue skin mixed and with the blood gushing out of its mouth, pooling on the floor beneath.

Handle bars shot out from indentations in the metal floor and Willow instinctively grabbed on, listening as a ding resounded through the elevator. The Santa heard it as well and struggled desperately to grasp the handles in time but was just short as the entire structure came to a sudden, jarring halt. Willow felt her body left into the air as the clone-half disappeared from her sight, drops of his blood falling upwards in he sudden change in gravity. Willow heard an impossibly loud _splatter_ and then squeezed her eyes shut.

* 

Two Liberation Elves (by the names of Gridion and Manchester) passing by watched in curiosity and then in horror as the elevator doors opened to reveal a small young woman on the floor, looking for all the world dead. There was not a single spot in the small space that wasn't covered in blood or gore. On the ceiling there seemed to be some sort of flat fleshy matter, though it was doubtful anyone but the girl would know what it had ever been. Bits and pieces of tissue and organs were all over.

The blood-covered girl twitched and the two elves cried out, raising their loaded bows and ray guns. She spit out blood that wasn't hers and didn't move her head from the floor. A tired, tiny voice called out to them.

"Would you happen to know what floor I'm on?"

The elves looked at each other in amazement and Gridion ventured forth. "Th-the sixth."

"Well...that just figures, doesn't it." It was more of a statement than a question.

The fleshy matter at the top of the elevator suddenly slopped off and traveled down seven feet to land flat on the young woman's head.

**40. Sacrifice**

Diablo was ready.

Dawn awoke to find herself in a wide cavern, stalagmites and icicles hanging from up above. Somewhere nearby she could hear the sound of running water burbling incessantly. As she moved to get up the scraping of her feet against the snow-covered floor echoed off the slick stone walls. She had been laid down upon a set of steps leading to a pedestal and a large set of crystals that also hung down from the ceiling.

Seeing the crystals brought back the events that had conspired earlier in the night and Dawn found that she had to sit down and regain control of herself. Her emotions were rising as she realized that she had no idea where she was, her mother had been killed and she'd left Xander for dead in the Buick and she was probably going to die without seeing any of her loved ones again. Despite her fighting it, tears welled up in her eyes and began pouring out. Soon her small body was racked with sobs.

She would never see her sister again, never have another birthday, never kiss a boy and never again even see the light of her namesake. She was going to die in this place and no one would ever know. And the only thing she could think to say to herself as a way of comfort was 'Merry Christmas'.

"Crying is pointless at this juncture in time. Beings such as us serve no purpose shedding tears."

Dawn stopped crying and looked up, searching the room wildly for any sign of who had spoken. The voice had been a low rumble, like if thunder or boiling hot water had acquired the gift of speech. But no one appeared to the eye.

It was then that she noticed the pedestal not far from where she had woken. Marble and spotted with eye-of-tiger jewels, it didn't really fit in its surroundings, but there it stood at the top of the steps, four feet up and one foot wide. On the pedestal was something that didn't look like it would fit in any surrounding. A black stone, smooth and oval. It looked more like a liquid or gas mocking the form of a solid than a truly solidified stone. For some reason, Dawn was afraid to touch it.

"It is the embodiment of my nature. It is evil and hate and death in its purest form. That is why you are afraid."

Dawn realized that the voice was coming from within the crystals that hung above the pedestal. They shined red now and a ball of fire stared straight back at her from inside. Dawn thought its power was what must have kept the room so well lit. But it took her a moment before she saw that the fire formed the figure of a human head, if somewhat distorted. It's eyes now replicated the same color of the stone.

"It is time."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and stared up at the figure. "T-time for what?"

It didn't answer, deciding instead to let it's actions speak for it. Dawn found herself drawing closer and closer to the stone on the pedestal, even though everything in her mind told her to stay away, to run.

Soon she was mere inches from it, and she saw that swirling inside was the face of a blonde, curly-haired young girl with bright blue eyes.

"A being not of this world. Her power of destruction was necessary to awaken the life within the stone. She was drawn to Sunnydale by my minions and stripped of her essence."

Dawn shook her head, gazing at the blood dripping from the fangs of the hellhound behind the girl. It seemed to be looking right back at her.

"Why do you do this? I-if you're so big on purpose, what purpose does it serve to hurt people?"

To her surprise the voice chuckled, making a noise not unlike an explosion of fire. "Do not consider yourself any better than me, Key. We were both created. The humans need me to live as much as they do the purity of light and goodness your kind provide. All children have one eye for the light and one eye for the dark. Inside of them there is a part of me, waiting to be released. It is why they have pain, why they murder and hate and hurt. I am what makes them human just as much as you do on the other side of the spectrum. Do not consider me an accessory, for I am a necessity in your existence. The only difference between us is that I am stronger than you."

With this the stone began to spread out, darkness leaking in tendrils, grasping out and surrounding Dawn. As hard as she tried she couldn't move, instead stuck in place. She was forced to watch in horror as the first length of darkness swept inside her right nostril. She could feel it moving its way up to her brain, leaving everything inside her head numb and cold.

She began to sway slightly as the room shook around her, the red of the crystal unable to overpower the mingling wisps of darkness that were swirling around her head, wrapping her into a world of...nothingness. She fell into its embrace and let the darkness wander over, under and inside her body. The smell of burning oil came to her along with the sound of gentle rocking, like on a ship. She was falling deeper and deeper into the cold when she opened her eyes.

The bowels of hell opened up and red flame shot forth, enveloping her and disintegrating every particle of her being, lava mixed with blood mixed with bone and screaming and dead, naked infants staring at her, into her soul as she called out for Buffy but got no answer, because Buffy was dead, Willow felt that in her heart but wouldn't admit it Buffy was dead and Xander was dead and Joyce and Giles were dead and she herself would rot into nothing because she was nothing, except for light, she was light and light was good, light was better, light was best and light could fight the darkness of the night and Diablo would scream his last when he took her-

Diablo did scream. He let out a mighty roar that, had he been freed, would've deafened every ear across the earth. As it was, hundreds of thousands of ice and rock spikes shot out of the floors and walls all over Teufel mountain. This action killed many of the Liberation Elves and many of Diablo's minions alike.

"NOOO!!! THE LIGHT, IT BURNS!!! AAAHHHHRRRGGGGGGHHH!!!"

Dawn fell back down to the steps by the pedestal, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't know what had just happened and her head was still partially clouded with the black fog. But had her eyes not been squeezed so tightly shut she would've seen darkness racing to escape, exiting her head and body and forming the single stone once again. She also would've seen the wall directly behind the pedestal explode in a shower of icy water, rock and two struggling bodies.

**41. The Zeppo and the Dark-Elf Lord**

Xander let out all of the water that had collected in his lungs and most of the days meals as well. His entire body was almost frozen and the anti-freeze he'd felt since going through the portal seemed to be wearing off. Maybe he had used up his supply...

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and get his slick hair out of his face, Xander remembered that Sethiroph had been with him when they'd broken through the wall. His eyes shifted from his position on the floor but he couldn't see any sign of the large Elf/Fairy. What he could see surprised him though. He'd played a game once where you could knock another player off of a bridge and onto a bed of spikes. This room looked a lot like that game, but the spikes were varied and spread out unequally everywhere. Most of them were as tall as he was, so he didn't have to worry about tripping and skewering himself.

He yelped when two arms closed around his soaking shoulders and grabbed for the sawed-off shotgun in the stolen holster on his back. In taking out the gun he smacked the attacker fairly hard by accident and grinned maliciously when he heard the grunt, letting him go. He turned and raised the gun only to find Dawn staring back at him with wide eyes, her nose bleeding freely from the hit. She looked too surprised to be hurt by his hitting her and once she saw the look on his face she again rushed him, this time while he was facing her.

Their cheeks pressed together and Dawn began to cry as he ran his fingers through her hair. She clung to him tightly and he could feel the blood from her nose begin to seep down and give an eerie warmth to his shoulder and back. Despite this he couldn't let her go.

"I thought you were dead," cried Dawn, a note of happiness in her voice at seeing him.

He smiled. "I knew I'd find you."

He rose to his feet, water pouring out of his pant legs. Dawn reluctantly let him go and covered her nose with one hand. Xander tore off a piece of his already bullet-ridden shirt and handed it to her.

"There," he whispered. "Just add a little pressure."

She nodded and took the piece of cloth. Xander took this time to observe his environment. It was quiet in the cavern, almost disturbingly so. With all the jagged rock and ice spikes sticking out from the ground he couldn't see very far beyond where they were standing. He'd simply have to take Dawn and navigate around them until they found a way out. He reached down and took Dawn's hand.

"Let's see if we can get out of here."

He started towards an odd-looking pedestal but Dawn pulled on his hand, shaking her head. "Don't," she said softly.

Xander frowned but let her lead the way past the pedestal and crystals to enter the maze of spikes. He saw now that they didn't just rise up from the floor, they came out of the walls and ceiling to. The entire cavern looked like a giant inverted pincushion. The only sounds were the stream he and Sethiroph had taken a dip in and a dripping noise to the east.

"Over here." Dawn tugged on his arm and they picked up the pace a bit, moving around and between the spikes.

As they passed by an ice-spike Xander caught sight of a blue shape moving in the transparency. He peeked around the formation but nothing was there. He knew the fairy-elf was somewhere nearby, and it was only a matter of time before he showed his face. Xander's fingers caressed the double-barrels of the shotgun as he imagined taking the foul creature apart piece by piece and hearing him scream all the way thr-

"Xander!"

He focused on Dawn who was giving him an impatient look. "Huh?"

"I said I think the way out is north of here."

"Why?"

"I felt a breeze. If there's wind there's an opening, right?"

Xander grinned. "Good thinking."

A flutter of wings broke their communication and Dawn screamed, pointing behind him. "Xander, look out!"

Without looking he dived out of the way between two slick rock spikes just as Sethiroph swung his fists down at the point where Xander had just been. His skin was still leathery tight but he looked a shade lighter than usual, one of his ears drooping and his wings glistening with thousands of beads of fresh stream-water. His brown cloth was soaked to his chest and thighs.

Xander fired the shotgun from his position on the floor, blowing a chip of limestone off the spike next to Seth's head. The elf-lord ducked and leered at him, his teeth shining in the light. Off-handedly Xander was curious as to just where the light came from. He knew there was electricity in the mountain, but he hadn't seen a single light fixture on this level. On the outside he was rolling along the floor, trying to lose himself from Sethiroph while at the same time keeping track of Dawn as she ran around, obviously unsure of what to do.

"Dawn, run!"

He saw her face turn to a grimace as she tried to locate the source of his voice. Luckily, the cavern's echoes made it veritably impossible. "I won't leave you again!"

Xander felt two very powerful hands grab onto his legs and pull him back. "Jesus, Dawn, just go!"

She bit her lip and ran out of sight. His chest swelled and his anger rose, remembering what Sethiroph had told him of his torture on Anya. Xander rolled onto his back and pumped the sawed-off, firing it into his attacker's chest. The elf-lord flew back several feet, a surge of power shifting through his wings. Xander gasped at the sight and dodged just as Sethiroph released a torrent of magical energy through his wide, gaping mouth. It paved a road of destruction as Sethiroph followed Xander through the spikes, demolishing each one just after Xander would run past it.

That was until Xander came across a particularly slick patch of ice on the stone floor and slipped, his hands reaching out instinctively to protect himself. Sethiroph, who had flown into the air to get a better shot, immediately took advantage of this and forced the stream of pulsing energy on Xander as it fell. Xander's right foot and hand disappeared at the wrist and ankle. The shotgun, no longer supported by anything, fell with a clatter to the ground followed shortly by Xander himself.

The young man had no time to scream in pain, but he did bite his lip so hard it bled as he reached with his one remaining hand to collect the sawed-off. He aimed it upwards just in time to see Sethiroph, the stream no longer forcing its way out, flying downwards directly at him. He pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a spray of blood as Sethiroph's left wing shredded and he, off-balance, crashed headfirst into the side of a spike not three feet from Xander.

Before Sethiroph got back up Xander wanted to take the initiative. He aimed at the fallen warrior and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. _No sweat, I've got more ammo, _he assured himself_._ Xander reached into his shirt pocket and grasped two shells. He pressed the gun against his chest and opened it with one hand, shaking out the previous shells just as Seth began to twitch.

By the time the pale-blue creature had gotten to his knees Xander had his weapon reloaded. He coughed and waited for his nemesis to turn around. Sethiroph did so and Xander would have thrown up had he not done so just minutes ago. The fairy-elf's face looked more like mashed pulp than anything recognizably human. His eyes were forced back into his skull and his nose and mouth had almost squished entirely together. The bone of his skull itself was pushed out on both sides of his forehead, white mixed with blue and red liquids. Xander smiled and raised the gun to fire at Sethiroph's crotch. One thing was for sure; he'd never rape a girl again for the rest of his short existence. Xander pulled the trigger.

Three years previous to this incident Xander Harris had been transformed into a soldier on Halloween. It was brought on by wearing a costume created by Ethan Rayne, master of black arts and former associate of the late Rupert "Ripper" Giles. By the end of the night Xander was returned to his true self, but as a side effect to the temporary curse he'd acquired an extensive knowledge of military, combat and weapon physics. This knowledge had unfortunately dwindled over the days and months and years that had lain ahead of him. For instance, there is a common rule in gun tactics that you do not, unless under extreme enemy fire with little or no variables left, fire a weapon nor use a slug that has been in water for a long period of time. Bullets that do not require the aid of outside gunpowder or are not in a shell are acceptable, but Xander was using a shotgun. This type of weapon has the extreme chance of either not working at all or, worse, backfiring on the shooter. It was the latter of the two that fell upon Xander Harris.

The blast took away part of his face, a good deal of his shoulder and his right ear. For the most part his other wounds were superficial and both of his eyes were still intact. But due to the explosion and the deep cut in his forehead Xander was blinded momentarily. He could just barely make out through the blood and sparks in his vision that Sethiroph had disappeared.

But the fairy-elf hadn't gone far. He smashed a stalagmite off the wall and picked it up, hefting it in one arm. Its sharp edge could pierce through almost anything with the right amount of pressure behind it. Sethiroph rushed at Xander, raising the large weapon above his head.

Dawn vaulted off of one of the smaller, duller spikes and onto the warrior's back, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling backwards. He howled in rage and bucked wildly, but Dawn clung on and screamed at Xander to get up. His vision cleared partially and he took the situation in as Dawn was finally thrown clear of Sethiroph. She skidded along the floor and crashed into a cavern wall. Xander made sure Sethiroph's attention was on him and hopped (only having one foot to support himself) for a steep incline in the walls opposite of Dawn.

The Dark-Elf Lord followed Xander at his heels, his broken and bloody teeth bared maliciously. Xander reached the wall and grabbed a spike with his remaining hand, his other a charred stump now (it seemed as though the flesh had burned quickly enough for the bleeding to be halted) as he used his legs to help him ascend. Below Sethiroph began to climb as well, his back aching from his torn wing. He knew that he had the boy now as there was no where to go once he reached the top of the wall.

With Xander's impaired abilities it didn't take long for Seth to catch up to him once he'd gotten to the highest point. The fairy-elf's hand latched onto Xander's boot and yanked roughly. The Zeppo's grip loosened and he nearly fell. He looked down as Sethiroph yanked again and saw that a long bed of spikes would indeed be waiting to greet him. Xander grinned unnervingly at the crushed face beneath him. This infuriated Sethiroph, who pulled harder. Xander's pinky and index finger slipped off of the stalagmite.

"Why do you laugh now, human? Your life is so near to its end." Sethiroph leered, seeing how close Xander was to falling.

Xander continued to smile. "You know the funny thing about old shoes?" He said in a strained voice. "They always tend to-"

Before he could finish the boot Sethiroph was holding came off and he lost his balance. His one working wing flapped crazily, blowing a strong force of air against Xander. Sethiroph fell down further and further and he screamed as he spun, slamming down onto a particularly large spike. He was motionless after that.

"-slip off," Xander finished, breathing heavily as large amounts of blood streamed down his face. He regained his balance and slowly, very slowly, began to climb down the wall as an electronic voice suddenly entered his ears from an unseen intercom.

"Thirty minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Thirty minutes."

**42. Santa Dance**

Saint Nicholas approached the pedestal, ignoring the battle going on behind him. He'd been about ready to leave Teufel when he'd felt Diablo scream and a few large spikes had risen up from the ground in his living quarters. Now he stood before the pedestal and the crystals above it. As he waited they began to glow dimly, and soon he heard the voice that had been commanding him since he'd gone global every year.

"Kringle..." Diablo spoke in a whisper, though his voice still bellowed. "I am weak, but can still be freed. The light did not stop nor destroy the power the stone holds. I need souls. Get them for me." Santa grinned and nodded, harsh breath escaping from his torn and wretched lungs. "And dispose of Frost as well," the evil stated. "He was the only one with control of the detonation system."

It was not much later when the first soul arrived. Sethiroph's essence was sucked into the void, strengthening Diablo's grasp on the boundaries. It wouldn't take many more before he would have the power to free himself completely. And with the amount of death from the war above them, it was only a matter of time.

* 

By the time Dawn found Xander he had already gotten down from the wall and was quickly losing consciousness from the amount of blood loss that he had sustained. One side of his face was red with blood and the other was pale white. His eyes had a milky quality to them and he couldn't see straight. Worst of all was the pain. He was wracked with it and paralyzed from the sheer ferocity of which his wounds ached.

Dawn couldn't even cry when she saw him. She was overwhelmed by the shock and trauma she had endured and was striving to simply not break down and forget about living entirely. She got down on her knees beside him, her face red from the blistering cold that was only getting worse and worse as her body reacted. She realized as she watched him that Xander should've been long dead by now. His wounds were horrifying and he'd spent an unimaginable time in water that was almost at the freezing point.

Their breath plumed out in the air and she leaned over him, placing a light kiss on his lips. She knew he had never felt for her the way she had for him, and that she was too young for anything to have been there in the first place, but she loved him nonetheless. He blinked as she did this and stared up at her.

"Dawn, I-I lied to you tonight..." He spoke in a weak voice, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. "I d-don't think we're going t-tto get your mother back...or Buffy. What y-you have to do is..." He shook his head violently. "You have to get out of here. Th-there is a portal on the f-fourth le...level. At least one th-that I know... Dawn, please. Get out while you still can..."

She pressed her head against his. She would've screamed if she felt she had the strength, but all she could do was whimper and hold him tighter.

A slight scraping sound caused her to look up and back, and what she saw made her feel as though someone had just splashed ice water inside of her gut. Through the ice spikes she saw the unmistakable appearance of Santa Claus, though he was moving oddly and seemed to be whispering something. She couldn't help but gasp.

Apparently Xander heard her or he too saw the man in red, because he used every ounce of his willpower to sit up and, with Dawn's help, stand (if awkwardly, balanced against the wall). "Dawn...go!" He whispered. She hesitated momentarily before running behind a few spikes and hiding, watching to make sure Xander would be okay.

Santa entered the clearing and Xander frowned, unsure if he was hallucinating or if what he was seeing was really there. He hadn't completely believed the others when they said they'd seen _the _Santa Claus, but there he stood before him. He looked worse for wear with pieces of his face and beard gone as well as one eye, but so did Xander. Only, Santa was acting strangely. He seemed to be...swaying, dancing. There are many things more laughable than a fat man dancing, and Xander wasn't laughing.

For such a proportionally large man, Santa was quite graceful. His arms hung akimbo while he swayed from side to side. He rotated, twirled every few seconds and kept a strange smile on his face. His eye held a dead-gray quality while his other socket simply remained open and empty, blackness evident within. Xander had been too entranced to realize that Santa was drawing closer and closer to him, and as the toy-maker drew in he began to pick up the words of a song that passed through the old man's flaking, grayish-blue lips.

"-like the sea, it can't be found. Nothing left but one small sound. Every one must hit the ground. While three may be a single round. Xander Harris here we stand, your destiny is close at hand, and all you think of is to save, the girl who stands in her own grave. She's behind you now, only feet away, tell her how you'll save the day..."

Xander looked fearfully behind him and spotted Dawn's crouching form through the spikes. "Dawn, get out!" He thought he'd yelled this, but it only came out as a hoarse whisper. Dawn stayed where she was, unable to tear her eyes away.

"You're weak, Xander." Santa said, no longer singing or twirling. He continued to sway slightly as Xander turned back to face him. "And I've checked my list twice. You've been quite the nasty child. Doing such sinful things to that demon girl."

As hard as he tried, Xander couldn't turn away. He couldn't even raise a finger.

"Are you that way by nature? It certainly isn't God's willing that you stick your tongue in places it doesn't belong. Such a dirty, filthy boy." Santa reached around him and grasped the nape of Xander's neck roughly. His eyes locked Santa's and he saw what lay ahead of him. "Give us a kiss with that dirty tongue of yours."

Santa forced his rotten, pus-filled mouth onto Xander's and the boy felt something exceedingly slimy and wet enter through his lips. At first he thought it was the old man's tongue, but soon it detached itself from inside and went completely into his mouth, wriggling and struggling down his throat. He clawed and choked desperately to spit it out but Santa kept him in the lip lock as his small creature did its work. Once it had slithered down completely and was gone into his digestive track, Santa let him go.

The pain came immediately as his chest burst open, but Xander no longer held the strength to scream. Dawn, on the other hand, did.

* 

Willow and Gridion, the lone Liberation Elf (his partner Manchester having been wounded by the outburst of spikes) ran along the white corridor towards the next staircase leading down to the fourth floor. She was beginning to notice that the fighting was dying down a lot. Most of the elves were either dead or seriously wounded, and those that weren't were smart enough to start looking for a way out. By now, thanks to the warning system that had come on once the countdown had reached the half-hour mark, everyone was aware of the mountain's shortening life span. She could only hope and trust that Baringold had been true to his word and that Tara was now safely outside the mountain walls.

"Wait," Gridion said as they passed a nook in the icy walls, grabbing her arm. "You know the way from here, do you not?"

She nodded. He stared at her for a moment before letting her go and pointing to a dark entrance she hadn't noticed before. It was a small tunnel that lead downwards into an apparent maze of ice spikes. They were much more frequent and much larger in the cave than they were outside of it. She frowned at the elf. "What?"

"This is where he is held," Gridion whispered ominously.

"He who?"

The elf's blue uniform shimmered for a moment, his long pointed ears twitching nervously. "Diablo...I will not go any further; I am going back for my brother, but if you truly want to rid us of the evil, destroy the crystal cage that holds Diablo while he still resides within it. Tonight he will try to free himself if he has not already. I'll tell my people of the invasion and we'll try our best to get to the portals before the Santas do, but if you do not stop Diablo now yours and our efforts will be for not."

"Well how will I know what the cage looks like?"

"You will know it when you see it."

Willow sighed and nodded. What other choice did she have? But as she bent down she felt something nudge at her shoulder. Looking back she saw that the small man was offering her his bow and quiver of arrows. The ray gun had been left with his partner for protection until he returned.

She smiled slightly and took the weapon. She didn't know how useful it would be as it takes years of training to master any weapon, but this was better than nothing.

The two regarded each other once more before Gridion ran off, disappearing around the corner. Willow looked down into the icy cavern and gingerly stepped inside just as a familiar scream reached her ears.

* 

Diablo was in need of assistance; he knew this for certain. His master called to him, telling him to retrieve souls. And that's just what he was doing, but the quest for blood had become more cumbersome. He had been searching for quite some time and hadn't been able to find any new souls. Diablo would be displeased if he knew that a failure was all Riley was.

But Riley wouldn't let that happen. He sensed that an eminent danger was growing, and that escape was necessary if he wanted to survive, but survival was not his first priority. His first would be the retrieval of a certain light that had weakened his master. The Diablo would see how good a servant Riley truly was, and he would make the danger go away.

The light was close. Riley could feel it. And he could hear her screaming.

**43. Eye to Eye (Freedom)**

Willow walked along the steep ledge, looking down at certain death below her. The spikes jutted out from everywhere, announcing their presence with deadly pointed edges. Willow had seen a fairy-elf not unlike Jeneva impaled upon one not too far back. His blood has stained the top of the ice and his wing had been twitching ever so slightly. But there was no mistaking, he had been dead.

Now she continued to skimp over and under the spikes coming out of walls and kept her eyes alert for any crystals with demons trapped inside of them. She disliked how cryptic the elves could be, though she had to admit that at times she felt a little too ambiguous herself. Especially to Riley.

She was wondering just where Riley had gotten to when she came across what could only be the set of crystals holding Diablo inside. Willow felt an odd tenseness pass through her as she stepped up the pedestal and stood before the crystals hanging from the wall above. There was a definite darkness to it, though not as prominent as she might've expected. Her red hair shifted off her forehead when she reached out to touch the lowest crystal.

A soft, plush and wet hand grabbed her neck from behind and pulled her backwards roughly. Willow fell down the steps and hit her head on the icy stone floor, her dazed eyes locked on her attacker. At first she could've sworn it was Xander, looking down at her with the coldest, most hurtful gaze she'd ever seen. But the crystal flashed for a split-second and then he was gone, leaving a less surprising enemy in his place. Willow was hit with a great sense of loss, but she pushed it a way, concentrating on combating her adversary.

Backing up, Willow began to circle the pedestal Santa stood on, pulling out the bow from off her back. The quiver remained but she drew out a single arrow from inside it. She placed the arrow alongside the wood of the bow, its pointed edge facing Santa (who stood oddly still) and its slanted back on the flexible string. As she pulled backwards Kringle began to laugh.

"So...the witch returns..."

Willow said nothing, instead choosing to get better aim by braving two steps forward.

"What do you do now, witch? Do you plan to kill me with your pointed stick?"

He obviously didn't think much of her strength. She smiled back at him and let the arrow fly. For her first shot it wasn't bad. It would've pierced his jugular had he not caught it.

Santa grinned and snapped the wood in his hand. "You can't kill me, little devil girl. No one can. A thousand eyes see every arrow coming."

Willow shrugged, keeping her distance while reaching for another arrow. "This from the guy who had my finger in his eye socket not too long ago."

His jovial demeanor faded quickly and a grim, frightening look replaced it. "Yes, that reminds me. It is time to make amends."

Kringle rose his hands in the air and the ice on the floor quickly came up, surrounding them. Before Willow could consider what he was doing Santa's eyes rolled white in the back of his head and he began to speak in another language.

"Ach nah web defrus perfah da nah behr aahs nah hote'" _From the one who cast the first stones comes the same_>

Suddenly feeling ill, Willow let the arrow slip from her fingers and dropped to her knees.

"Dehr nah dehr, life nah life, esh nah esh" _Wound for wound, life for life, eye for eye_>

The bullet wounds disappeared from her stomach and Willow at first thought that he was healing her.

"Weh breth nah hote'" _We are the same_>

White-hot pain soared through her head; Willow screaming as her right eye dissolved and her eyelid closed up over the socket. Blood welled up on her chin and she realized that a piece of flesh covering her jaw had been ripped off. Just as she had done to him. Santa ho-ho-hoed with laughter.

But as Santa chuckled his stomach began to swell, and Willow realized the full extension of the spell. Santa had made the encantation so they would be the same in wounds, but he was carrying a heavier load than she, which he'd now have to lose. Whether he wanted to or not.

His belly continued to grow and push out, and Kringle looked down at her with resentment in his eyes. Then he opened his mouth and a human hand appeared out of it. His mouth stretched wider until two hands came out. And as the body inside moved his jaw seemed to detach itself from the rest of his head. Willow could do nothing but watch in awe and disgust.

Santa suddenly wretched and the rest of the body flew out in a gush of mucus, blood and soggy, brown leaves. It was Buffy, completely nude as when he had eaten her.

And she was shivering. Breathing. Alive.

Willow wasted no time in getting another arrow out of her quiver, though the pain in her head and face did halt her process somewhat. Santa meanwhile neared Buffy, apparently attempting to eat her again. That was until he saw Willow pointing the arrow. He giggled wetly and they stared at each other. Eye to eye.

"Haven't you learned anything, girl?"

Willow fired the arrow, but it didn't hit Kringle. If fired past him, towards the crystals.

* 

Diablo was rising. Slowly, ever so slowly. But he was rising. The final soul of Xander Harris had reached him, and it was all he needed to begin to free himself from his magical cage. Soon he would walk the bowels of the earth, sending his minions all over until evil reigned.

But as he rose from the depths his chamber of hell and fire began to shake. He roared, realizing that his home was being destroyed.

* 

Dawn couldn't stop. She couldn't believe what she had seen. Xander...his chest had...the thing just burst out...all of the blood on the ice...and Santa turning to grin at her, to chase her. Dawn couldn't stop running, because she didn't want to die like Xander had. She was a coward, she knew she was. But she didn't want to die, she wasn't ready to. Tears streamed down her face as she prayed for protection, as she wished more than anything that she could just wake up in her room and have it all be a bad, bad dream. Dawn was good at doing that, making the evil and the darkness go away.

But it seemed that was only in her dreams...

Something flashed in front of her, causing Dawn to trip and fall as she bumped into a rock spike. Not to far away, a man stepped out from the shadows. Riley. He smiled and started walking towards her.

* 

"It is too late, witch. Diablo has already begun to free himself! Nothing can stop him now, NOTHING!"

Santa cackled and disappeared as the entire room shook, stalagmites and spikes crumbling. Unhesitatingly, Willow turned Buffy onto her back and arched her head at and angle so she could examine her friend. She seemed flawless as always, nothing on her body was hurt. Though the thick coating of mucus didn't add much. Willow took a deep breath and prayed that Buffy would forgive her for what she was about to do. She reached a hand into the air and punched Buffy in the face, right on her left cheekbone.

Buffy's eyes shot open and she saw a haggard, tired-looking Willow staring back at her with one eye. She was much paler than usual (which Buffy hadn't thought possible until she'd met Doppel-Will) and a wound on her chin was bleeding heavily. Worst of all her right eye was missing, her eyelid clamped shut as though it was sown on. She tried to give voice to her concerns but all she ended up doing was turning her head and vomiting large amounts of foul-tasting fluids onto the stone floor beside them. She was finally freed from Santa's pit, but she hated to think about what he'd been planning to do with her.

"C'mon," Willow growled, her voice surprisingly rough. "Let's get out of her before this place collapses on us!"

Buffy nodded and got to her feet, helped by Willow. They then began to run with Willow leading the way.

* 

Riley, mere inches away from Dawn, suddenly stopped in his tracks. The room began to shake and he fell to his knees, grabbing his head in pain with his scarred hands. Dawn thought that the spider bites were acting up again until Riley's eyes began to glow. Then his entire body shimmered in light for a second and he stooped his head to the floor.

Dawn got to her feet and ran over to him, shaking him lightly. "Riley, are you okay? Get up, we have to go!"

He looked up at warily. "D-Dawn? Where...where am I? I remember throwing the fire extinguisher into the cafe...Oh!" He looked up, surprised. "I remember thinking I was in the North Pole!"

She nodded desperately. "We are, Riley! We are, now can we go?"

A spike sailed down from above and crashed next to them, leaving a large hole in the floor.

Riley stared at the hole, shocked. "Yeah...yeah let's get going."

Dawn tugged on his shirt until he finally stumbled to his feet. Oddly enough, Riley had the distinct feeling that he knew the way out. His freedom from Diablo's power seemed to have come with other benefits as well.

* 

Blueball brought down the small elf-made axe and was satisfied with the wet _crunch_ that sang in his pointed ears. Beneath him the Dark Elf's head rolled down the small incline and stopped just short of a window. Outside Blueball could see that the raging snowstorm continued its fury, but to elves like him it was a beauty to both see and experience. He skipped jauntily over to the window and unlatched it, then bent down and picked the head up. It drained blood and other assorted liquids onto the floor which Blueball took the care of not to get on his pointed combat slippers.

He smiled at the head and giggled a little. The giggle echoed down the halls of the stone hallway and he returned his attention to the open window.

"Well Bob," he said to the head, "Do you mind if I call you Bob. How do you like the outdoors? Uh-huh. What about heights?" His voice squeaked. "Really? What's that, Bob? You don't like heights? Well, were you aware that little bitch shit-stinking Dark Elves such as yourself can fly? Yeah, look!"

With this he tossed the head outside of the window and heard a soft crack of it hitting something. From outside the window there then came a high-pitched moan. Blueball's ears perked and his large eyes grew wide with fear. "I-I wasn't serious ab-bout the shit-stinking bit!"

The moan grew louder and two hands suddenly reached into the window. Blueball screamed and looked back at the body, wondering if the undead possessed the power to inhabit other bodies. Then the face of someone familiar peeked over the ledge. If it was possible Blueball's eyes grew even wider.

"Commander Baringold!"

The Commander nodded and looked at him expectantly, his golden hair blowing around as he hung half-in and half-out of the window. "Well don't just stand there, help me get inside!"

Blueball shook his head and ran to the window, grabbing the Commander and pulling him through the window. His blue uniform was covered in dirt and snow and grime. His leg was at an odd angle and the Commander stood slightly hunched. By the look on his face, Blueball knew better than to ask where his superior officer had been.

"I have to find Tara."

Blueball frowned. "Who?"

"Tara, Willow's lover. Get me a troop and some weapons. Someone took her before I could get to her."

Blueball took a deep breath. "Willow, sir. I've heard word of the young human who calls herself such. Gridion and Manchester say they ran into her and that she is destroying Diablo's cage as we speak."

The Commander nodded, smiling hopefully. "So she's stopped the invasion then?"

"No sir. But she said she knows how to. Gridion and Manchester are going from troop to troop telling them to converge in the portal room on the fourth level. That is where the invasion shall take place."

"So then what are you doing up here?"

Blueball narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Ah...Spreading the word, only when I got here it was all but deserted...except, of course, for him." He pointed to the headless body.

The Commander smiled. "Right...Bob."

The young elf blushed furiously.

"Do you have any idea why everyone is deserting to the lower levels?"

Blueball smiled widely. He finally had a good answer for something. "Of course, sir. Teufel mountain is on red alert. A countdown has been started."

The Commander looked startled. "You mean this place is going to be destroyed?"

"Yes sir. In approximately twenty-four minutes if I remember correctly."

He sighed. "Well, let's get going then. If her kidnapper has any brains at all, and judging by his speed I believe he does, Tara should be in the lower levels."

"And what of the portals, sir?"

"...What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"Blueball, sir."

"Continue to gather the ranks, but do it on the lower levels. Once the fifteen-minute mark hits report to the Portals yourself. Do you know where they are located, Blueball?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Remember, Blue; we do this for the freedom. It's all for the freedom."

As they left the corridor, Blueball looked down at the headless body and wondered if he could get around faster and with less trouble if he were undercover...

**44. Dust to Dust**

Tara looked both ways before crossing along the next deserted path, bodies of elves littering the place. Lamps filled with elf magic swung lazily from the stone ceilings, but they did little to add warmth. Spike walked alongside her, aiming his newly acquired ray guns (one for each hand) at everything that moved. Tara, preferring the bow and arrow (she'd taken a few classes back in high school and had become fairly efficient with them) shivered and watched as her breath escaped her.

She sucked in more of the cold air and held her hands to her ribs. Her sweater was looking pretty ragged by now, but at least she had it. Looking over at Spike she saw the bleached-blonde vampire was inspecting his pinky, or what was left of it. The top half had been torn off by a ray gun. At least that was what he'd told her.

"Hang on a second, pet."

She glanced from him to what had peaked his interest. An elf, smaller than the rest and wearing a glimmering blue bodysuit, was crawling with one hand towards them, half-covered by the darkness. When he got a better look at Spike though, he opened his mouth to scream. Spike put his finger to his lips and shook his head, stooping down.

Tara came up from behind and looked over the creature. _Poor thing..._ She then saw that the rest of his body wasn't covered in the shade. He didn't _have_ the rest of his body. He'd been disemboweled from the mid-drift. Spike seemed to be getting a closer look. Somewhere nearby Tara thought she could hear the revving of an engine, but that faded quickly.

"S-Spike I...I don't th-think that there's anything we can d-do for him."

"I'm aware of that," came a deep, hungry growl. It was soon followed by moans of protest and a sucking noise, like soda being lewdly sipped through a straw.

Tara put her hand to her mouth and turned away. She leaned against a wall (making sure not to be poked by three jutting spikes) and strived to regain control of her bile. Moments later the sucking noise stopped and she heard the rustling of Spike getting back to his feet. Tara remained where she was, her face a pale greenish color.

"Can't stand to look at me, 'sthat it?" His voice didn't sound offended; simply factual.

"No...No, I was just surprised. I d-don't like that. I just can't get uh-used to it."

"...Good."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows and turned to look at Spike. "W-what?"

"C'mon," Spike said, ignoring her question. "We have to find the big pussy Xander before this place goes up. He's the only one who knows the way back."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Spike spun on his heel and stared at something ahead of them. Apparently Spike could see the speaker, because he gasped and he raised his ray guns. Too late though, as rush of air and a soft thunk later, Spike disappeared in a cloud of dust. His weapons clattered to the ground shortly thereafter.

"Spike!" Tara screamed and ran to where he had stood, hearing the footsteps approaching her. She knew who it was before she even looked up.

"Ancient Oriental wooden dart blower. Homes in on the heart of the nearest vampire. Always carry it with me. You would not _believe_ the amount of time I spent playing 'Go' with Emperor Song Wu Di just to get this thing. Of course I think Americans call it Chinese Checkers...anyway, that was quite a long while ago. What, 422 AD? Song was only the ruler for three years and I pl-"

Tara snatched the ray guns from the floor and spun around, aiming them at Jack.

"-ayed him in his second year so th-hey, hey, hey! Baby, what's with the guns and the pointing?" He looked mortified for a moment, then suddenly calmed down. "Oh...were you close to that vampire? It can happen sometimes, I understand. Listen, once we get out of here I'll get you another one, okay beautiful? All new and fresh from-the-grave too, that one was looking a bit worn out."

"G-get away from me, Jack!" Tara stood, continuing to point the gun at him.

Jack blinked, confused if not angry. "Okay, I'm getting some awfully mixed signals here. First you're hot and easy to please back in the cell, which by the way I really wished you wouldn't of escaped from; it took me quite a while to track you down as you can see...where was I? Oh right, first you're hot back there and now you're cold-"

Jack brightened visibly then and snapped his fingers. "I've got it! You really are cold. Negotiations took a bit longer than I had suspected and your temperature is lowering now...come here, I've got a something that will fix it."

Eyeing him closely, Tara went over to Jack. She figured that it was in her best interest to raise her temperature as quickly as possible, and if Jack could do that...

He reached around in the pocket of his jacket for a moment before pulling out a small syringe and an even smaller bottle. Jack then looked from her face to her hands and back to her face, smiling. "Say honey, would it be all right if you stopped pointing the guns at me now?"

Tara put the guns in the pockets of her hip-hugging blue jeans. Jack nodded and took her left arm gently, pulling up the hem of her sleeve and rubbing a spot on the skin near her wrist. He then took the syringe and stabbed the bottle with it, suctioning out the liquid. He winked at her as he did so. "Relax baby, this thing is sterile, never used it before."

She winced for a moment as he put the heating liquid into her system and put the syringe away. "We should get going, yes? This hole place is gonna go up fairly soon."

"Oh, the b-bomb. Was that your work?"

He looked as though he was on the verge of saying something but decided not to. "Something like that." He grinned suddenly. "Come on, I wanna show you the jet now. I put it in Loading Dock C so the elves could juice her up. Wait until you see her, you'll absolutely cream. You've never seen any-"

Tara shook her head vehemently. "No-no, I h-h-have to f-find Xander! S-Spike said he w-was here."

Jack frowned. "Who, the vampire? Listen, he was undead Tara. I wouldn't put it pas-"

Tara rushed to get past him but he grabbed her. "Hey, hey! Jeez, you're really shaken over this Xander guy, huh? Well relax. I've got people. We'll find him in no time and put him on the plane, okay?"

Tara stood back. "Y-you can do that?"

Jack spread his hands in the air. "Tara, honey. It's me you're talking to. Jack Frost, remember? There's nothing I can't do. Just like the button says, 'I'm your number one guy'!" He searched her sweater. "Hey, where is the bu-"

Tara played along, stepping closer to him. She wasn't certain how to make herself prominent around a normal guy, but Jack wasn't a normal guy. He forgot about the button and smiled. She smiled back; letting him put an arm around her. When an ego was as big as his it wasn't that hard to put something past him. She tried to look coy.

"S-so about calling y-your people?"

"For you, anything."

Jack took out an odd-looking orange crystal out from his pocket. "What does he look like?"

"Umm..."

Jack hit his head. "Oh, what am I thinking. They'll know him by name, they know everybody."

He took her through a darkened area to a parked motorcycle. "Go ahead, Frost doesn't bite." He snickered to himself but stopped when Tara didn't join in. "All right. Let's go. Hold on tight sugar, this thing flies."

Tara rolled her eyes and stepped over the bike, situating herself behind him. She'd ridden a motorcycle once before with Willow, who was much better than she at handling the motorbikes. Tara shook her head, trying not to get too emotional at the thought of Willow. The last thing she needed was Jack breathing down her neck, wondering what was wrong. She'd get back to Willow. She knew she would. She just wished that Spike could've been with her when she did.

Tara had never been very close to Spike, and Willow had told her of many of the awful things he'd done. But he'd never treated her badly and he'd saved her life not long ago at all. She might cry at some time in the future. The trauma of seeing him die there in front of her would eventually catch up with her, but right now Tara needed to keep her head clear. She needed to let events come until she was presented with an opportunity and then be alert enough to act on it. And that meant not breaking down. Not if she wanted Willow back. And that was what she wanted more then anything else.

Jack concentrated on weaving a path through the spikes sticking out of the floor and walls and Tara was deep in thought. Neither of them noticed the small group of blue soldiers in one corner of the wall...but the elves noticed them.

**45. Portals (The Return)**

Willow and Buffy stumbled down the cold mountain halls in shock. They'd barely made it out before the stone cavern had collapsed in on itself. The entire ceiling had just come crashing down seconds after they'd jumped. And while Buffy had suffered no ill fortune Willow had a long if minor cut along her back from a stalagmite that had basically destroyed her red denim jacket and her shirt to get to her skin.

Now they continued walking around the spikes and the dead bodies of the elves which seemed to populate this area more than most of the others. Buffy had a ray gun in her hand while Willow kept the bow, feeling a bit of good luck towards the weapon. Buffy stumbled on a dead body and looked down at it. Then she screamed.

"Oh my god, I'm naked!" Buffy squealed, suddenly bending over. She squinched her legs together and covered her crotch with one hand while putting her other arm over her breasts. "Willow, why didn't you tell me I was naked?"

Willow stopped, not sure of what to say. "I-I thought you already knew!"

"Well, don't just stand there, do something!"

They both looked around and a short time later Willow spotted a dead elf that was a bit taller than the rest. She signaled Buffy (who hopped her way over) as she bent down. The clothing the elf wore would do the job.

* 

"I feel like a go-go dancer," the blonde grumbled as she stepped over more bodies, only a little more confident. Her breasts bulged tightly in the Dark Elf's top suit and it ended just above her mid-drift. The pants that had so snugly fit the elf now made Buffy appear as though she was wearing short-short shorts. Goosebumps stood out all over her body and Willow's torn, bloody and scorched jacket did little to warm her as it hung over her shoulders. It was the thought that counted, though.

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to go this way," Willow said, observing the hallway with her sharp green eye. They turned left as Willow instructed and were faced with yet another long white and gray hall that was littered with the dead.

"How can you tell? They all look the same."

"I'm going by what Gridion told me. I just hope his information was right."

Buffy decided not to ask who Gridion was. She was still very dazed from being inside of Santa and nothing Willow was telling her pieced together. "So, what are we going to do when we get to the portals?"

Willow shrugged. "That's where you're supposed to come in with the slaying and fighting. If we can get there before the Santas do-"

"The ones that Jack Frost created," Buffy stated, repeating what Willow had told her.

"Right."

"The guy who nips at your nose."

"I don't know about any nipping. I'd imagine him being more of a guy who won't nip your nose cause someone else has touched it."

"And the Santas are duplicates of the really fat guy who ate me and took out your eye. The real Santa Claus."

Willow nodded.

"Oh man. I need to wake up."

"You don't know the half of-"

A flash of red was all Willow saw before she was thrown backwards. A hole had formed in the wall next to them and three Santas now leered out wildly. Buffy raised the ray gun and was surprised by the power of the blast as energy in the air surrounding her crackled to life, and the first Santa's belly opened up in a long gut wound. It spilled red and yellow liquids onto the floor and stumbled through the hole along with the other two.

Willow backed up and took out an arrow, placing it in the crook of her bow. Her first shot thudded home into the shoulder of the already-wounded Santa, who wavered a bit before standing upright and continuing to walk forward. Her next two shots missed completely.

Buffy was making a bit more progress; quickly becoming used to the amount of energy the ray gun used and how to control it. She fired point-blank into the second Santas face and stepped to the side as his features disappeared in a vibrant flash of bloody gore. To make sure he stayed down Buffy fired the gun along his waist, trying to ignore the stench of burning synthetic skin. Seconds later when the Santa tried to move his top half slid off his bottom half and he fell to the floor, writhing around soundlessly.

Willow, still struggling with the bow, fell down to the ground as the wounded Santa nudged her roughly. She hurriedly placed another arrow on the bow and aimed it into the face of the Santa above her. Undaunted, the fat clone drew closer and Willow let the string go. The arrow slipped from her fingers and shot into the forehead of the Santa. Blood and brain matter splattered down onto her as he stared at her for a moment, then fell forward. Willow rolled out of the way just in time and got back to her feet. But upon turning around and wiping the blood off of her features, she came face to face with final, unharmed Santa. She could hear Buffy behind her, firing the ray gun into the top half of the Santa she'd cut in two.

The last Santa grinned, as if knowing of her predicament.

"Willow, duck!" A familiar voice called out to her from somewhere beyond her line of sight. She did so, dropping down on the floor and closing her eyes. She heard a hiss of air and a wet _thunk,_ which was quickly followed by a heavy form directly in front of her crumpling to the ground. When she felt everything was safe, she opened her eyes.

"Bar!" She smiled and once again rose up to stand on her feet, examining the longhaired elf as he limped towards her. A small band of elven warriors followed closely behind him.

As he reached her Baringold's smile turned more into an expression of horror. "Kri'sh Chistak', Willow! What happened to your face?"

"Kringle."

Buffy looked up from the sliced up body of the Santa, which now more resembled a side of sliced beef than anything else. She frowned at the elves and walked over to stand next to Willow. The elves had a hard time keeping their eyes off of her.

"You know these guys?" Buffy asked Willow, moving herself so that she was partially covered by her friend.

Willow nodded. "Yeah, Buffy this is Baringold; Baringold," she pointed at Buffy, "Buffy."

Baringold eyed her. "...We've heard of you. The vampire slayer. I always thought there would be more to you than met the eye." He gave her a once over. "Guess there was just more _of_ you."

Buffy blushed and gave a dirty look to Baringold, who turned his attention back to Willow. "The Santas are making their way towards the portal room, as you can see. If we hurry maybe we can figure out some way to stop the-"

Willow uncharacteristically silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Where's Tara?"

Baringold coughed uncomfortably and looked back at his men. None of them met Willow's eye. "Yes, I don't have her in my possession in the true sense of the word, but there is some good news."

"As long as you know she's okay and Frost hasn't got her."

Baringold looked up at her, even more nervous now.

Willow didn't need to see any more. She brushed past him with an angered sigh. "I don't believe this. I trusted you to get her back for me, just one thing you had to do and you let Frost get her first."

Baringold stared at her retreating form and looked to Buffy for support. She followed Willow. He stumbled to catch up, his bad leg making progression difficult. "Willow, look at me! I followed her through a damn ventilation shaft and got shot out off the mountain; I woke up hanging from a cliffside with a broken leg, I had to climb up to a window and pull myself through. Do I look like I just _let _anything happen to her?"

Willow continued walking. He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Look at me!"

She stared back at him for a second, then ran her fingers through her hair. "I've seen you. You don't look so good. But you'll heal. I'm down fifty percent sight. That's not going to go away."

Baringold nodded. "You're right, I'm not trying to compare scars, I'm simply saying that I did everything I could to get her for you and I still am. Just relax; as soon as Jack lays his guard down a group of my soldiers will be all over him. And besides, Tara appears to have endeared herself to him. My guess is, he'll keep her safe."

A long paused past before Willow spoke again. "Okay...what do we do now?"

* 

"Twenty minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Twenty minutes."

"Dawn, just keep going! Run!" Riley yelled, firing behind them at the oncoming barrage of red and black. He knew that there was no way he could keep the melee at bay for long, but if he could simply get Dawn to the portal back home before the entire place blew up around them, there was a chance that he could regroup with the others back in Sunnydale and find some way of stopping what was going down.

He left his spot of safety by two fallen elves and dodged through the lead blasts from the oncoming Dark Elves, running over to where Dawn was hunkered down. She was trying to pull up on what looked to be a very heavy shutter. Seeing as how it was their only way out, Riley bent down next to her and gently moved her hand. Replacing it with his own, he pulled up on the gray metal shutter and Dawn covered her ears to block out the grating sound.

Urged on by the approaching footsteps, Riley and Dawn raced into the large, noisy room without observing it. After a few unsuccessful grasps Riley finally pulled the shutter back down behind them and hoped that it would give them some time before the elves found a Santa that could open it. He was distracted by a tug on his turtleneck sweater.

He turned to see Dawn, then glanced at whatever she was looking at. His mouth parted in a silent gasp as to what lay before them. The room was impossibly tall and Riley could just barely make out the other end. Its expansiveness was filled many with about seven floors worth of portals. The seven levels holding the portals were based around the walls, leaving most of the room to a large computer center in the middle. Here and there were security stations and scientific booths where Dark Elves tracked and monitored the portals. Riley and Dawn could see that all the way up on the ceiling, betwixt a mass of cables and wires, there was situated one extremely massive, octagonal portal. It took up about fifty percent of the ceiling, and its energy filled the room, electricity crackling.

"C'mon, let's hide before we're spotted," Riley whispered, taking Dawn by the shoulder.

* 

"What the hell is that thing?" Willow asked. She, Buffy, Baringold and Woufer (his second in command) hid at one of the entrances, while a growing number of the elf leader's soldiers continued to build up behind them. More and more elves were getting the message to converge at the portal room, and those that were not already at one of the many entrances to the massive room were on their way. Except, of course, for those tracking Tara and Jack.

Baringold shook his head, shrugging. "It looks to be like all the others; it's a matter redirectory device, only bigger...a lot bigger."

One of them elves arrived and whispered in Woufer's pointed ear. He nodded and leaned over to whisper something to Baringold before leaving with the soldier.

Ignoring this, Buffy smirked. "So, what's the big? We enter, destroy, move out."

Willow gave an exasperated look to her friend. "Buffy, there's no way we can possibly get to every portal individually in twenty-, no eighteen minutes. We have to have at least some semblance of a strategy."

The Slayer returned the look. "What are you going to do, Will? No matter what plan you've got, unless it includes destroying everything in that room, there will still be a big chance that these Santa clones will get through one of the portals, and I don't care where it leads, it isn't going to be good."

Willow sighed and turned her head back to portals. Buffy was right, as dangerous as it was to admit it. Her eyes drifted upwards until the locked onto the super portal (as she had come to call it in her mind). _What could be so big that they'd have to build that? _Suddenly, something snapped. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't have to risk their lives in such a drastic way.

"Okay," she said. "I've got a plan. Baringold, send your army in. While everyone's distracted we'll make our way to the computer center there-"

"Willow," Buffy interrupted, "that mainframe isn't going to be in English. It isn't even going to be human. How are you going to hack into some code you can't even understand the language of?"

The redhead smiled innocently. "Who said anything about me turning everything off myself?" She pointed to the short elven scientists hunkered over the monitors. "They've got people there who can do it for me."

Buffy nodded in realization and began to prepare herself for battle by checking her weapons and limited, meager defenses. Willow glanced at Baringold, who was staring into the room quietly.

"What do you think?"

He nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. But if it begins to look like suicide I'm sending my men out."

"What about you?"

He swelled his chest up and looked at her bravely. "...I'll fight for the freedom of my people from the oppression of Diablo and his minions as long as there is a chance. And this is the last chance we've got."

A nice, heroic line, though Willow thought it would have made a deeper impression if Baringold didn't have that high elf voice and cute elf features. Of course, she didn't tell him that. She simply signaled that it was time.

Woufer returned at this moment with three elves behind him. "Commander," he addressed Baringold, "We have something that we believe will come of use to the humans. A few men came upon it in the weapon docks."

The three elves stood forward and Willow noticed Buffy's eyes light up as they presented it to them.

"Oh," Buffy whispered to her, "this might not be so bad after all."

* 

At the northwest entrance of the portal room, the security elf on guard leaned back in his small patrol station, fiddling with a ray gun the guard before him had acquired on duty. He knew what was going on outside, they all did. The mountain was on countdown. At least, that was what the scientists set up.

He chuckled, thinking about how stupid the Liberation Elves were. They actually believed that the elves would destroy their own mountain. Some of his fellow guards were a bit anxious themselves, but Price (the chief scientist) had assured every elf in the portal room that it was all a hoax, and that they were under strict orders from the Dark Lord himself to continue working. He hadn't believed for a second-

A quick shuffling of feet broke his concentration and he rose up, pointing the ray gun wildly in the air. But nothing was there. He looked over the monitors and saw only peace and quiet. Taking out his elven pistol from his holster, he now had a gun in each hand. He knew he had heard something, and it wouldn't hurt to stretch his legs a bit walking. He opened the door to the small booth.

It slammed back in his face, his nose cracking and warm, wet liquid gushing out. The guard fell back onto his butt and raised the gun, but not before the elf in front of him raised his. What he didn't understand was the fact that this elf was dressed as one of his own, a Dark Elf.

"Hey, hey you! What the hell do you think you're doing?" He muffled in outrage, his hand over his nose.

The other elf didn't answer, instead keeping the gun trained on him and examining the room. Finding what he was looking for, the elf reached over to the main control panel for the northwest side. The guard reached out, grabbing his hand.

"Are you crazy, destwa' gina? That'll open up the entire northwest entrance!"

The other elf smiled down at him. "I know."

Before the guard could respond Blueball pulled the trigger, killing him instantly. His hand left Blueball's and he pushed the button on the panel. His undercover plan was going wonderfully, he didn't know why Baringold had told him not to try it. _Sometimes,_ he thought_, you just have to go against what leaders tell you_.

As his fellow brethren stormed in, Blueball sneaked out and headed south, towards the west entrance booth. The longer he could keep this charade up, the better.

* 

Gridion and Manchester entered the swarm of soldiers attacking from the northwest side, firing at anything and everything that moved and wasn't one of their own. But because of the spike wound to Manchester's side they moved slower than the others and were quickly left behind. Gridion would not leave his friend and elven brother's side, instead choosing to cover him as they made their way across the massive floor. But it wasn't all bad. If they could get in and out of the place before the Santas arrived, they might be able to get to the outside world before the entire mountain destroyed itself.

Manchester grimaced and held the bandaged wound as he continued to sharp shoot scientists and guards with his ray gun. He didn't know if his side would heal and his energy was draining out of him, but he would keep up with Gridion and the rest as long as he still had control of his legs.

A deep roar filled the room, and both elves looked up to see something large, red and ugly at the top of the room, climbing in and out of the wires around the portal.

"Santa," Gridion whispered menacingly. "What's that monstrosity doing now?"

Manchester put his hand on Gridion's shoulder. "He's not a concern of ours. Let's secure the area and let the commander and the human worry about him."

The other elf nodded and they resumed their walk across the room, dodging fire from the guards and covering each other's backs.

* 

Willow, Baringold and Woufer walked side by side through the warzone, picking off any enemies who got to close. Every few seconds a large ball of blue fire would roar past them or they would hear it blowing away crowds of security guards somewhere nearby. Buffy seemed to be really enjoying the Large-Size Ray Blaster she had strapped to her shoulder. She walked a few yards behind them, stepping over bodies in elf slippers that didn't fit and ignoring the cold winds that ran up her thinly clothed body.

"Willow, there he is!" Baringold said, pointing up at the ceiling far above. Santa was still there; apparently working on the large portal as he hung suspended from the wires.

Willow nodded and looked back at Buffy, who was firing her massive gun at a group of retreating scientists who were shooting their way out of the room. "Hey Buffy, up by the portal!"

Woufer gave her a shocked look and ran back to Buffy, grabbing her before she fired. "Are you _crazy_?" He shouted. "Follow the wires. There connected everywhere. If you blow him up, everything goes!"

Willow's eyes trailed along the wires. They started at the main computer center in the middle of the room, then headed upwards and hooked individually into the portals above. Finally they all appeared to lead upwards at the large portal.

An elf ran up to them then, out of breath and sweating profusely. He saluted Baringold before speaking. "Sir, we've found the portal back to Sunnydale."

Baringold nodded and winked at Willow. "Good work Belfrey. Where is it?"

The elf shook his head. "That's just it sir. It's gone. The Santas destroyed it."

Bar's eyes went wide. "What? They- well where are they no-"

An explosion ripped through the room, accompanied by the screams of both Liberation and Dark elves. At the south the Santas began to flood inside through a hole they'd made in the wall.

"Get to the mainframe!" Willow shouted as they split up. "It's our only chance!"

* 

Mass hysteria soon followed. Explosions rocked the massive room and booths collapsed under heavy firepower. The Santas destroyed everything in their path, heading constantly towards the portals. Not long after word got out the Baringold had sent the order to abandon the operation, and many of the elven warriors on both sides were now struggling to get out and escape the killing spree.

"Fifteen minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Fifteen minutes."

Throughout this chaos, Kristopher Kringle continued to work diligently at the portal, hanging from the ceiling that was almost the length of a football field away from the ground.

* 

"Price!"

The head scientist turned from the computer, acknowledging the voice behind him. It was a guard, his gun pointed at two humans. One tall and male, the other shorter and female.

"Yes?" He asked, curious as to why this was brought to his attention.

"I found these two intruders trying to cut the lines to the portals with a ray gun."

Price waited for more, but nothing came. "So what?"

The guard looked dumbfounded. "What do you want me to do with them?"

"Kill them!"

"But they're human."

Price stumbled on his words for a moment before pulling a small gun out of his lab-coat pocket and shooting the guard. He never thought he'd see the day when a guard considered a human above him. He looked down at the two humans, ignoring the screams and rumblings around them. The other scientists continued to work. He raised the gun to kill the male when an arrow pierced his hand. He screamed in pain and let the gun drop, looking around and trying to find the sniper. Another arrow whistled through the air and killed the scientist next to him. Then the scientist next to that.

This did cause the others to look up from their work. By the time the third elf died the others moved to leave.

"No one goes anywhere!" Price roared. "Diablo's life and freedom is what we work for, not our own!"

But after the next scientist keeled over, an arrow through his skull, the remaining six scrambled around each other to get away from the center. Once they were gone Price looked around angrily. "All right, come out of there! You haven't killed me yet, it's obvious you want me for something."

A _whoosh_ of air sounded and a redheaded girl dropped to the ground next to him. He looked up and saw that she'd been using the wires to get around. She seemed extremely pleased with herself.

"Willow!" Dawn and Riley called out simultaneously.

"Well," Price grumbled in an amazingly low voice for an elf, "do you expect me to talk, sharp-shooter?"

She shook her head, aiming the bow and arrow at him. "No Mr. Price, I expect you to die... Either that or turn off the portals, your choice."

Price smiled grimly, his waxy elven face reflecting the red of the fire around them and the blue of the portals. He reached down with his one good hand and took hold of the small pistol. Willow saw this and gave him a disbelieving look. She wondered if he actually had the gall to try anything with an arrow aimed straight at his temple.

But he turned then and stooped over the computer. Willow watched as he typed out an unreadable command and entered it into the mainframe. Above them, the super portal came to life, spinning and spitting out sparks of electricity. Santa was nowhere to be seen.

Willow turned angrily back to Price. "What the hell did you just do?"

His smile had turned from grim to condescending. "How do you humans say it? Long live the king?"

He raised the gun and before Willow could stop him Price stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger, the back of his head spraying onto Dawn and Riley.

"Dammit!" Willow yelled, looking at the monitors for some clue as to what she could do now.

Dawn and Riley got up and joined her, Dawn hugging her tightly.

"Jesus Willow," Riley exclaimed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What happened to you eye?"

* 

Buffy walked towards the center of the room, none of the elves or Santas daring to come near her with the stolen weapon she wielded. Unfortunately, the Santas were quickly becoming like their original. They were now able to dodge the blue balls of fire she shot at them, and the bullet wounds to anything but their faces weren't slowing them down in the slightest. They were showing many signs of comprehension and she could've sworn she saw one of them speaking to another at one point. If this continued for much longer, there wouldn't be any difference between the clones and Santa himself.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

She turned to find Woufer next to her, shooting at a few of the remaining elves. Most of them were gone now, the place mainly belonging to the Santas.

"Yeah..." She fired off another round, but the Santa she fired it at simply moved out of the way. Buffy looked back at the small being next to her. "Where's your commander?"

Woufer searched the room for a moment before pointing to the circle of computers. "He's made it to the mainframe. Look."

Buffy glanced over and nearly cried out. Baringold was there with Willow, and next to them were Dawn and Riley. She broke into a run and despite the added weight of the large gun, it was difficult for Woufer to keep up with her.

She vaulted into the circle, up the steps and into Riley's arms before he even got a good look at her. Dawn saw her and joined in the embrace, pressing the metal of the gun even further into Riley's gut. He let out a rush of air as she kissed him.

"Interesting choice of clothing," Riley said when he'd regained some breath.

Willow smiled at the sight meeting her one eye, but waited somewhat impatiently or them to break apart.

"Buffy," she said once she had the slayer's full attention, "We've discovered what they're going to do with the large portal. It's the final stage of Diablo's release."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "So he's gonna..." She looked up. "Oh shit."

Willow nodded. "Right. It's his entrance to the world. Unless we can destroy it, then he'll be stuck inside of Teufel as it blows up."

The blonde ran her fingers through Dawn's hair affectionately. "Yeah, but the only way we can do that is if we're in here too."

"No," Riley said. "There's the portal back home."

"Destroyed," Buffy replied, her eyes never leaving Dawn.

Riley looked completely defeated, and sat down dejectedly in one of the small elven chairs. "Well, that's it then. We don't stand a chance."

Willow turned back to the computer monitor. "Not necessarily."

"C'mon Willow," Riley stated, "How else are we going to get home?"

The hacker grinned as a map appeared on the screen in front of her. She then pointed up at the portal above them.

"Look," Woufer broke in nervously, "Whatever you guys are going to do you'd better do it fast."

The group observed what was making him so tense. The Santas were climbing the levels and were lining up at the portals. It wouldn't take much longer for one of them to step through.

"It's okay," Willow assured them. "The large portal should destroy everything on it's way down."

"I thought we were going to use it to get home."

Willow smiled deviously at Riley. "You are. Instead of crushing it, this entire center here should be saved when it slips _through_ the portal and," Willow paused for a moment as she carefully navigated the foreign keyboard, "Back into the restaurant in Sunnydale. I've just set the large portal's navigation system."

Buffy glanced at her, surprised. "You learned how-"

Willow shook her head. "Baringold told me what the keys meant. I caught the gist of what was on the computers."

"But I thought that every portal already had a set address."

The redhead pointed at the wires. "It's them. The large portal is connected to every portal."

"Wait, what did you mean when you said, '_you_ are' going back? We're all going, Will."

Before she could respond Woufer fired his ray gun at one of the higher levels. "Listen guys, we gotta do this now! They're almost through."

Baringold stepped towards his second in command. "Woufer, leave. Go with the others and leave Teufel."

The other elf hesitated. "Sir, I wish to be useful-"

"Then go to the loading docks and find the troop tracking Tara. Help them."

Riley looked at Willow. "Wait, Tara? She's here?"

Woufer saluted his commander and ran off through the rubble and remaining booths.

"We don't have time for this," Willow said. "You're going. Now."

Buffy stepped closer to Willow, fire in her eyes. "And you're coming with us. If Jack will protect Tara, it isn't worth dying ov-"

_Whack_!

She fell back into Riley's arms, unconscious from the hit. Willow shook her fist. "Damn that hurt."

Riley and Dawn stared at her in awe. She shrugged. "She's still weak from being...uh, where she was when I found her." She'd nearly forgotten that she'd neglected to tell them how Buffy had been captured in the first place. No sense telling them now.

She bent down and took the ray blaster off of Buffy, standing it upright and motioning for Dawn to hold it. Willow then took her jacket as gently as possible from Buffy's limp shoulders and stood up on the circular desk the computer monitors sat on. Grabbing one of the cables with the jacket in her hands, Willow looked back at Riley and Dawn. He held Buffy in his arms while Dawn continued keeping the ray blaster up.

"Oh, Riley. Here. Thought you might want this." Willow reached into the jacket and brought out Riley's lighter, tossing it to him. She then looked to the elf leader as Riley pocketed the Zippo.

"Bar, grab onto me."

"Willow, do we have to go on a cable? Can't we just run?"

"There's no time, the Santas are going through the portals now. GRAB ON!" The elf did so, climbing onto the desk and latching onto her waist.

Riley stared at her nervously. "If this doesn't work, I'm sending Buffy after you."

Willow winked at him, which looked odd without the other eye being in place. "It'll work." She nodded to Dawn, who pressed the trigger.

* 

The blue fireball soared upwards through the air, cables incinerating and sparks flying. The portal shook as the ball of light shook its foundations, and slowly tore itself free from the ceiling. With a tremendous groan it began to fall from the top. Fire erupted as it crashed into every portal on the way down, crushing the prone Santas as they began to enter the gateways.

The screaming of metal tearing against metal sang in Dawn's ears as she watched the fire and destruction coming down at them with the speed of a hurricane. Oddly, she wasn't thinking about dying. She was thinking about what Diablo had said to her in the Crystal cavern. He had called her the key. So had the large fairy/elf creature. She was becoming aware that she wasn't who she thought she was, and that she might not even be human._ Well, there's only one way to find out._

Next to her, Riley cradled Buffy in his arms, praying for the best. He simply wanted to wake up in the morning with Buffy still in his arms, looking at him while she was still half-asleep and having the chance to make love and stay in bed without having to get up and fight demons for a _very_ long time. Nothing could be heard above the chaos, and he wondered if he'd gone through everything he had only to wind up being crushed to death because Willow pressed the wrong button and the portal led nowhere. _Well, there's only one way to find out_.

The air blasted Willow in the face as she and Baringold slid along the cable, listening to the horror that was about to rain down on the entire room. They were about twenty feet from the southeast entrance when Willow began wondering if the cord was going to snap. Looking up, she saw something that might or might not have been worse. What was left of her jacket was on fire, and her hand was about to become so as well.

She let go of the cord and they fell to the ground, Baringold giving her a surprised if somewhat anxious look. They got to their feet and ran, listening as the roar grew around them and the heat closed in. Just by the entrance, Baringold's bad leg got the worst of him and he fell. Willow caught him and used every ounce of strength to pick him up. Then she leapt through the doorway and out of the line of fire.

Back in the portal room, Riley held onto Dawn and Buffy, staring up into the face of death. It came crashing down on top of them, and everything turned black and blue.

**46. The Casanova and the Lesbian**

As the mountain rumbled in a massive explosion not far off, Jack lightly pulled the brakes on the handles as he and Tara entered Loading Dock C. A mass of Dark Elves were scattered around the platform, hurriedly packing crates and other sundry items into a variety of vehicles ranging from elven snowmobiles to Jack's own aircraft. He and Tara slowly rumbled along the stone and up the wooden ramp, Jack's motorcycle humming underneath. None of the elves bothered to stop and observe the humans, instead continuing in their frenzied pace to get out of Teufel. Jack saw something he disliked by the plane and harumphed. As they drew closer Tara's eyes locked onto the jet.

It was the largest of any vehicle in the mountain, easily taking up one fifth of the dock's space. It looked to be in prime condition, a fluorescent shine coming off its bulletproof, stainless steel metal. In many respects it was the same as any other small private aircraft; it held the standard wingspan, fuel gauge and of course, the jet properties themselves, one along each wing. But it also held one thing that most jets did not. A retractable ramp covered the back storage area, which was just large enough to hold a few barrels of fuel, a full-fledged, double-decked and currently loaded rocket launcher; and Frost herself. There were even locks just above the rams to keep the motorcycle in its place when Jack loaded Frost into the plane.

At the moment they sputtered to a stop not twenty feet from the mammoth exit in the cave built especially for Jack's aircraft. Tara dipped her head a little further down as Jack rose off of the bike, but she still could not see the end of the dark tunnel. Many smaller evacuation tunnels surrounded the area, and Tara noted that this must've been where the Dark Elves were hoping to use for their escape. She turned her attention to her captor/smitten wannabe boyfriend. He stood next to a short, cigarette smoking elf and the two of them were in a heated discussion.

"Look," Jack was saying, trying his best to be polite, "Just move the plane forward a little."

The elf shook his head. "No can do Frost, we're running on a hot schedule. This place is on countdown and we're getting the hell out."

Jack went red with indignation. "Listen, if you don't move it forward the second the pilot starts it up the flames from the jets are going to hit the explosives which you and your crew have so ingeniously decided to stick directly behind it!"

The worker shrugged, cigarette smoke curling out in wisps from his small lips. "Sorry Frost, but you ain't my number one guy."

A few of the elves in the general vicinity snickered at this, while others outright laughed.

"It's every man and elf to himself," the worker continued, "That's just the way it is."

Jack pointed his finger in the elf's face. "Either you move those explosives or you move my jet. If you do neither, than setting off the bombs is going to do just as much damage to you as it will to me. These explosives are going to set off a chain reaction with all of the others throughout Teufel, and it isn't going to be pretty when they do. One way or another they're going to go off tonight, but unless you want to be in the line of fire when they do, I suggest you move something."

The elf stood there for a moment longer before walking past Jack and signaling to a few workers to help him out. Jack turned and walked back to Tara smiling warmly at her. "Sorry you had to see that, baby. Just business."

Tara shrugged, getting off the bike. "Where's Xander?"

"Uh, yes. He should be here any moment. We'll wait if that's what you want."

Tara nodded and looked around the room. She had a fairly good vantage-point of the entire loading area from here. Hoping that Jack's people hurried in finding Xander, she decided to stay by the motorcycle until they arrived.

* 

A few minutes passed before Tara smelled something foul in the chilly breeze. The effects of the shot Jack gave her seemed to be milder than the portal's itself, and as a result she still shivered from the cold of the room. Sniffing again, the witch guessed that it must have been coming from the north, near the opening of the large tunnel. Jack had gone to check with the elven pilot about the progress made on the bombs and fuel loading.

Dark Elves moved in and out of her line of sight, smoking cigarettes and mumbling inaudibly as they loaded crates full of materials onto and into their escape vehicles. By now they were all so concerned with leaving that no one was paying any attention to her. Slipping off the crate she'd been sitting on, Tara watched the opening of the large tunnel for any sign of movement.

Another draft wafted over her and she gagged from the smell of burnt rubber and flesh. Pulling out her ray gun, Tara wondered for a moment if she should tell Jack before inspecting the foul stench. _What's wrong with me_, she asked herself, _I don't need Jack to protect me._ She walked towards the mouth of the tunnel, putting a hand over her nose to lessen the effect the odor had on her. Tara dipped under the nose of Jack's jet and peered into the darkness of the cave.

A hand grabbed her wrist from under the plane. Tara gasped and raised the gun, turning around. A Dark Elf looked back at her, a finger over his lips.

"You don't want to go in there," he whispered. "Follow me."

"What? W-why?"

The elf grinned at her. "My name is Blueball, I'm guessing you're Tara. I'm here to help you get out of here, back to Willow."

Tara's eyes widened and she lowered the gun. "Willow? Where i-is she?"

"I heard her speaking to the Commander before the portals were destroyed. They should be looking for you now. There was an entire team watching you, but I can't seem to find them."

Tara nodded. She opened her mouth to speak when a shout of outrage came from her left. The looked over to see Jack, staring at them (or rather, Blueball) with a look of shock on his face.

"Get your hands off of her, you little bastard!" Jack called out, trotting quickly over to them. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"It's okay, Jack, he-"

Frost held up a finger to her but continued to look at Blueball. "Can't you keep your dirty claws to yourself and," Jack sniffed the air, "and what _is _that horrid smell coming from?"

"Ten minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Ten minutes."

Directly after the electronic voice, a roar and a scream sounded from the opening of the large tunnel, startling all three of them. This was followed by more screaming and the sounds of laser blasts, which temporarily illuminated the tunnel. At least long enough for Tara, Jack and Blueball to see a group of blue elves fighting something black and red. Tara thought it could've been Santa had it not been so horribly deformed.

Both Jack and the elf grabbed one of her arms and tugged in each direction, trying to lead her away from the ensuing chaos.

"Let go of her, you mongrel!" Jack shouted, pulling harder on Tara's arm. She tried to shake free but his grip was too tight.

A stray blast from the battle up ahead glanced off of the nose of the plane and startled Blueball. His hold on Tara slipped and Jack yanked her away, around to the side of the jet. She noticed saw out of the corner of her eye that the explosives had been moved further back, out of the way of the jets. When they reached the side they came upon a ladder which led up to the door of the jet.

Jack let go of her and gave Tara a light push on her shoulders. "Go on," he said. "We don't have much time left."

Tara shook her head. "Jack, I'm not going anywhere with you. Where is Xander?"

Jack breathed out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure he found some other way back. Now get on baby, hurry!"

Tara pushed him away from her and moved past him to leave. "Stop calling me that. I'm going to find Xander and Willow."

"Oh no, you're not."

She felt an arm wrap around her waist and she was lifted by Jack, who began climbing backwards up the steps of the ladder. To their right the sounds of battle were growing closer. Several feet were running in their direction.

"Let me go!" Tara shouted, struggling to get free. But Jack had an amazingly tight grip and wasn't about to release her again. She gave a frustrated squeal and began kicking wildly until she connected with one of his ankles. They teetered on the ladder for a moment before tipping it over and falling to the icy stone and wood below. In the fall Jack had removed his hands from her waist to protect himself.

Regaining her breath in short gasps; Tara got to her feet as a beam of light whizzed by her ear, singeing her hair.

"Tara, don't do this!" Jack said, rising up. Tara kicked him in his side and started to run, but suddenly thought better of it. Aiming her ray gun at him, Tara waited for Jack to see his predicament. When he did he simply stared at her, confused.

"Where's Xander, Jack?"

Frost held up his hands. Another ray of light swished between them, and the screams grew more frequent. "Really, he's on his-"

"Don't l-lie to me!"

"Listen baby, you don't need Xander or Willow, I'm all you'll ever need. I had to-"

An explosion nearby sent both of them flying off their feet, and the floor underneath of them began to shake. Jack got up first this time and stumbled over to help Tara, also taking the gun that had fallen from her grasp.

"Had to wh-what, Jack? You h-had to what?" Tara yelled at him over the incessant roar.

"Don't worry about it, just get on the jet!" He shouted back. She was about to protest when she noticed that her gun was being pointed at her. Jack smiled charmingly. "That isn't a request."

* 

Woufer cried out in pain and frustration. Whatever it was they were fighting wouldn't die, no matter how many times they shot it, no matter what they shot it with. It simply continued coming after them, exiting the dark tunnel and taking out his men one by one. And now the Dark Elves had taken notice and they had to exchange blows with them as well. The large red and burnt black creature smelled of death and burnt flesh, and it would roar each time one of its swipes connected with the flesh of an elf, tearing meat from bone.

He fired again at its skull, looking desperately around for any means of escape. Shooting two Dark Elves blocking his path, Woufer jumped onto a crate and quickly glanced around for Tara. He'd seen her only a moment before...

* 

Jack searched the plane for any rope or material he could use as a restraint on Tara. She'd been acting outrageously, stuttering wildly and calling him names he'd never thought any would dare refer to him as. She was silent now though, simply watching him as he kept the gun trained on her. But it was okay, Jack knew there would be rocks in the relationship. Things to get around and move past. It probably wasn't easy getting used to the fact that Jack Frost himself wanted to be with her.

More explosions outside rocked the jet, and Jack worried that a stray blow would set off the bombs nearby. He was just thinking about getting the pilot to start the plane up when the small elf stumbled out, catching both his and Tara's attention. It looked at him with shock in its eyes before toppling over, an arrow in its back. Blueball stepped in after him, bow loaded and a smile on his face. Jack gasped.

Catching him off guard, Tara lunged at him just as a particularly large explosion sounded behind the jet. Jack and Tara struggled for the gun, slamming through a door to the back portion of the jet where fuels of gas lined the gray metal walls. The ground underneath of them shook harder as it seemed the entire mountain trembled.

"Jack," Tara said in a strained voice, arcing the pistol towards him, "Th-there's something I have t-to tell you."

The cargo door was still open, and the ramp that Jack used to load his motorcycle was still out. They fell down onto the ramp, both still fighting for control of the gun. They were mere feet away from the icy stone floor off the plane. The mini-earthquake raged on.

"I'm...a...", Tara leaned forward, her lips almost touching his. "-lesbian." She headbutted Jack, and he stayed underneath her, shocked. She now had control of the gun.

Standing up, Tara backed away from him and held the gun up. He now looked extremely confused and seemed to have forgotten about the gun or indeed anything that was happening around them.

"You...you're a what?"

"Yeah, W-Willow isn't just a f-friend, Jack."

His eyes widened. "B-but...you kissed me."

Tara looked shocked herself for a moment but shook her head. "No, no you kissed me."

Unbeknownst to the two, a fissure was opening below them, just beyond the ramp. Ice and snow fell into it, and all that could be seen inside was darkness. It was a long way down.

"Same difference, you didn't try to move away."

"Y-you were helping me. I wasn't s-sure what to do."

Jack put his hands out in defenseless manner. "I still am, Tara. Now that I took care of Willow, I can change you."

Tara's mouth dropped open and she walked forward, taking the gun in one hand and balling her fist up in the other, she punched Jack across the face. He stumbled back and slipped on a patch of ice. His feet went from underneath him and disappeared into the fissure. He scrabbled to find something to grab onto, and out of reflex Tara grabbed his hand.

The jet rumbled and growled to life.

"Jack, where is she? W-what did you do to her?"

Sweat lined his forehead, his breath wheezing out as his legs flailed beneath him, trying to find some way of climbing up. He no longer looked like the soon-to-be leader of the free world. He simply looked more like a man struggling to survive. "I, I just wanted you."

"What did you do?" Tara asked again, stress growing in her voice.

He just looked at her, not knowing what to say. His chest was pressed directly against the end of the metal ramp and as a result his eyes bulged slightly from lack of air. His sweaty hand began to slip from Tara's grasp, and she wasn't doing anything to stop his descent. "C'mon baby, don't leave me hangin'. W-we can talk this over."

Tara shook her head and let go of him. His arms shot out too late to grab anything else and he disappeared into the massive, still-growing crack in the stone of the mountain. Tara peered over the edge. He was gone.

"You okay?" A voice, behind her. Blueball.

Tara sighed. "No...where were you?"

"Starting the plane. I figured you could take care of yourself. Listen, this place is falling apart. What do you want to do?"

Biting her lip, Tara looked back at the open, large-size shutter that led in and out of loading dock C. She'd given up on Xander as she now figured that Jack had sent his men after her friend, not to help him but to hunt him down. But Willow...she couldn't believe that Willow was dead. Not yet.

Behind her, Blueball waited for a command.

* 

Woufer gasped and fell to the cold earth, a blast of lead through his chest. He'd taken down many of them with him, but not enough. He didn't see any of his squadron left standing. They had failed their mission in finding and retrieving the human girl named Tara. And now it seemed somewhat fitting that he would die here, in the place he had despised and wished to be gone all his life. He'd been a factor of the demise of Teufel and Santa Claus, and now he would die for his people.

But on a chance look, out of pure luck, he saw her. It had to be her. On her knees, looking down into a growing hole in the mountain's earth. Next to her stood a dark elf, a bow in his hands and a quiver on his back.

He could still be of use to the mission, he could still ensure her safety for at least a short amount of time. If she hurried, perhaps she could escape. Smiling grimly, Woufer lifted the gun, and as his eyes clouded red with blood and death, he shot down the black-clothed being holding the girl hostage. It fell to its feet, and Woufer past on with that smile on his face and satisfaction in his heart.

The rumble of shifting ice and rock stopped.

* 

Tara bent over Blueball, shocked. Turning him over, she gasped and backed away. A third eye peered back at her, gaping and welling up with blood. Right above and between his eyes.

"Aww...do not pity such a wretched creature." A voice scratched. It was less of a voice and more of a nightmarish scream forming words.

Tara looked behind her and cried out at what stood above, leering over her. The face of death. Santa.

**47. Leaving the _Steak and Ale_**

Riley breathed out slowly and looked up. A pair of eyes stared directly back at him. Suppressing a shout of surprise he took in a deep breath and sat up quickly. It was a dead elf. Where was he? Looking around, all he could see was debris. Then it all came back to him and he laughed, realizing that the entire computer center must have been sent back with them. Looking down he saw that Buffy was to one side of him and Dawn was at the other, clutching the giant ray blaster like there was no tomorrow.

_Well, _he thought, _there almost hadn't been._ He prayed silently that Willow and her elf friend had gotten out successfully, and leaned over to wake Buffy up. Shaking her shoulder, he heard her mumble something and roll over. A bruise was forming below her left eye where Willow had punched her.

After shaking her again Buffy blinked and looked up at him, a tiredness very evident in her eyes. "Hey handsome," she purred. "Wanna do nasty things?"

He chuckled and kissed her softly on the lips. "I don't think that would be the smartest thing right now."

She looked confused for a moment, then observed where they were and what she was wearing. "Great," she murmured, sitting up warily. "I'm still dressed like a Mexican hooker." Her face turned serious and she grasped Riley's shoulder. "Dawn."

He smiled and pointed to the small girl's prone form next to him.

Buffy sighed in relief and reached over, taking her sister in her arms. The ray gun slipped from her fingers and Riley took it, strapping it on himself. It could still be useful to them.

"Where's Willow?" Buffy asked only somewhat angrily.

"She hit you. She's still back in the mountain."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Where to?" Buffy asked, looking around the unfamiliar territory.

Riley scratched his head and looked around at the ugly green walls. "Uh, this way." He pointed to the double doors. "I'm pretty sure this is where I went through before I got knocked out."

As they were about to go through something loud clatter to the ground in another room close by. They looked at each other and Dawn unconsciously wrapped her arms around Buffy's shoulders, still deep in sleep. Riley whispered that he would go first. Buffy began to protest but he silently pointed out that she was carrying Dawn and he was carrying the only weapon. She nodded hesitantly.

He crept forward and opened one of the double-doors. Was Giles still in here? Had Jack killed him? Riley hated to admit it, but he wasn't going to stay and find out. He had too much to lose behind him. Looking both ways, Riley saw nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that the entire place had been torn to bits. It looked like some sort of massacre had occurred here and he didn't want to know what the dead creature on the counter had at one time been. One light remained, swinging lazily over the bar-top and providing a weak source of light.

Riley looked back and nodded at Buffy. She walked on tiptoes out into the main room, which was difficult but not impossible as she carried Dawn. The doors to the restaurant were only a few yards away, only Xander's car was where the actual entrance had once been. Shards of glass littered the area. They averted their eyes to it, not wanting to know just yet what had become of their friend.

As if on cue, the doors leading to what might have been a kitchen or a storing room swung open silently. It was too dark to tell what was now growling at them, but the light from the swinging lamp did reveal two very big, very hairy paws with sharp, ugly claws.

"Buffy, run!" Riley yelled.

She did so, lurching quickly for the exits and diving around the car as Riley aimed the large gun and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Not even a low rumble. The gun didn't light up, it didn't take the energy surrounding it and create ammunition, it simply stayed silent in his arms. It suddenly felt incredibly light and...plastic. Looking down at it frantically, Riley turned the device over and saw something that made his pulse stop momentarily.

A small flap hung on the bottom of the gun and an empty space was there, showing in vivid green detail that four "Double A" batteries were to be placed in the slots. Above that was a small signature reading "Made In Taiwan." The blaster had turned into a toy.

The thing lunged and hit Riley in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over and saw that the giant, misshapen rat before him was drooling white foam heavily as its worm-infested, rotting face drew closer to his own. He could hear Buffy crying out for him to get up and run for the exit. He rolled over and to the side just as the over-sized rodent snapped its jaws in the air where his head had been.

He reached out for the first heavy thing he could find and hefted it up, bringing it around as the rat leaped towards him. He battered it with the object, stopping its assault in mid-air. He continued to hit the creature until he heard its neck crack. A deep hiss emanated from its curled-back lips and a foul odor rushed to his senses. More noises were coming from the kitchen now.

Riley got up to leave the restaurant when he noticed what it was he'd killed the rat with. The fire extinguisher. Looking around the car at Buffy (who was now at the street, not wanting to leave Dawn) and the kitchen doors, Riley decided to get rid of the _Steak and Ale_ once and for all. A quick inspection of the bar uncovered a soaked and tattered tablecloth. He took it and stooped down by the large red canister, opening the nozzle and quickly stuffing the cloth inside.

The doors to the kitchen once again opened.

Beads of sweat covered Riley's face as he took out his lighter, which he was ecstatic to once again have in his possession. He would light the cloth, which would create Molotov Cocktail of deadly proportions. Riley opened the gray head and flicked the black roller with one scarred thumb, waiting for the beauty that was a single wisp of flame.

A few sparks spit out like the end of a firework, but no flame. Riley could here the paws as they neared him. He pressed down and around on the roller again. Still nothing. Shaking the lighter, Riley realized his Zippo was finally empty. The creatures rushed towards him. A strong force blew against the young man and he was lifted off his feet. He bounced off of the hood of Xander's car and landed in the street amidst a small lining of glass. Riley wasted no time in getting up and looking at what had thrown him.

He saw an axe raised in the air. A Mithral Axe. He saw someone (looking oddly halfway transparent) holding the axe in the air and bringing it down over the fire extinguisher. A small explosion blew him and Buffy off their feet, landing them in the middle of the street. Dawn stayed in Buffy's arms while the Slayer held a glazed look in her eyes, still too tired to completely understand everything that was happening. Riley glanced back at the restaurant. Through the strong and numerous amounts of flames Riley saw a grim face staring back at him. An Englishman, with tired eyes and an aristocratic complexion.

Then the fire in the room reached underneath Xander's vehicle. The flames licked metal and wire. With a bit of lucky foresight Riley stumbled up and ran to Buffy and Dawn, covering them with his arms and body as the car and (subsequently) the _Steak and Ale_ was destroyed behind them. Everything else was drowned out by the noise and Riley only saw red for the longest of moments. The earth shook and sirens screamed far off.

A heavy ran suddenly fell on them.

Riley blinked and raised his head from Buffy's cheek. A fire hydrant had been destroyed nearby and jets of water were now splattering everything in sight, including them. Not caring to look back at what was left of the building, the ex-soldier laughed out loud, rolling over next to Buffy and hitting the wet street. He looked up at the stars, not fully able to believe that it was over.

"I love you." Buffy. To his left. Still awake.

He grinned and turned his head, falling into her eyes. "I love you more."

The sirens continued, and Riley realized that it was the sound of law enforcement, fire trucks and ambulances racing throughout the town.

Which meant that the people of Sunnydale were once again awake and active. Which meant the spell was broken.

"It's over," She whispered, barely audible.

Riley nodded and closed his eyes, letting the water fall over him.

Soon afterwards the parade of authorities and fireman arrived along with two ambulances. Lights red and blue filled the night sky and Riley and Buffy prayed that they would see Willow and Tara again soon. Dawn, her nose already healed (in fact, her body was once more perfectly unscarred) slept in peace. She had a way of making the bad things disappear.

**48. Santa and the Jew (The Last Escape)**

Willow and Baringold entered Loading Dock C through the large metal shutter. The redhead shifted her glance both ways and a gust of icy wind blew across her face. Her bangs fluttered and settled back down again as she craned her neck to view the entire loading (and apparent escape) room through her remaining eye. Her partner stayed to her side silently, a bow and quiver at the ready. Most of the survivors from his army had already escaped Teufel, but he was hoping to find his second in command before leaving himself.

"I don't see her," Willow muttered.

"I don't see anyone."

Willow looked at the elf quizzically. "So where did they go?"

Baringold pointed to the small dark tunnels lining the walls of the mountain room. "Those caves lead to exits. It may be a long walk but with the vehicles they have I imagine they could get out in about four minutes, cargo included."

Willow swept her newly acquired ray gun (having discarded Gridion's bow) across the snowmobiles and elf jeeps that were strewn out in between the spikes. "Well then why did they leave everything here?"

Her compatriot shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe we got lucky and they all died before they could reach the loading docks."

Willow hesitated a moment longer before jumping from the wooden wharf to the snow-covered stone floor below. "I don't see Tara, but I'm guessing that's Jack's jet-plane."

Baringold took the safer route, walking above Willow on the platform. He looked down at her. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"Keep looking, if Jack hasn't taken her here yet he will soon. There's no faster way out for him. Besides, I don't think he'd just leave his jet...or his motorcycle." She said as she observed Frost, sitting in a parked and idle state, the thick kickstand out.

_Wait a minute, _she thought, _if Jack's motorcycle is here, then why-_

A familiar, static-filled electronic voice filled the room. "Five minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Five minutes."

This was soon followed by a noise of struggle from the inside of the jet. Willow and Baringold both watched the bunker of the plane as Tara's head and part of her body popped out. She looked to be in a great deal of pain. "Willow, it's a trap!"

Willow's eyes widened as she saw a rotting, black and burnt hand cover Tara's mouth and pull her back inside. Suddenly the heads of Dark Elves were popping up everywhere, from behind large spikes, crates and vehicles to storming out of the exits. And all of them had guns trained at her and Bar.

She dove for cover behind a wooden crate as lead bullets shook pockets of snow out from the ledge behind her. Willow crawled to the left as more shots made the box tremor harshly. Peeking around the edge, she saw that the elves were getting closer in an effort to corner her, their dangling snowcaps jingling all the way. She didn't want to think about what would happen after that. She quickly fired three shots (all hitting their marks) and rolled to the next box. One step closer to Tara.

Meanwhile, Baringold was fortuning better hobbling down one of the many rickety jetties that stuck out from the stone walls and led into the middle of the loading area. If he could simply get around to the front of the jet, he might be able to surprise whoever was keeping Tara hostage. But the few elves that had homed in on him were persistent, the bullets from their weapons actually causing the platform he ran along to sway.

Baringold was nearing the intersection of the jetties when a board he stepped on cracked underneath him. The small elf fell through, landing on stone and cold ice. He seemed almost surrounded in ice spikes. Getting up and not bothering to brush himself off, Bar took notice of his position. There were three elves ranging from the north to the southeast and another four from the south to northwest. A block of ice an inch from his head was blasted into non-existent by a close bullet.

Taking out a few arrows from his quiver, Baringold leveled the bow in his sight and took out the first and nearest elf to the southeast. He then rolled backwards, narrowly missing a spray of bullets and loading another arrow. A second later another elf was down, and then one more. Baringold grinned and turned around, ready to face the four left on his left flank. The next arrow was loaded into his bow.

Except that they were all ready for him. Each had a pistol aimed in his direction, and none looked like they were going to miss as snow drifted down onto them.

Baringold frowned, looking above the elves. A very large crate hung suspended over their heads. No doubt it was to have been loaded in Jack's plane, for nothing else could have possibly carried it. Baringold quickly put his bow up in the air and pointed. All four elves looked curiously upwards and gasped.

He let the arrow fly, and it soared towards the rope keeping the large crate in the air. Only it missed by a fraction of an inch, going past the rope and bouncing off the stone ceiling. The closest elf grinned and looked back down the near cage of spikes that held Bar.

He wasn't there.

* 

Tara leaned against the wall, four jagged cuts along her cheek where Santa's long and gnarled claws had raked her. She watched him warily, knowing that at any moment he chose he could end her life. He looked worse than anything she had ever seen, like something only a nightmare could produce.

He had transformed into a hideous beast, with his skin turned inside out and his flesh like a side of bacon that had been burnt to the point of becoming brittle. Some of the pudginess of his face remained, and bits and pieces of waxy flesh hung off his ears and cheekbones. But like a cracked walnut his stomach was open, and horrid liquids and chunks of rancid meat were falling out, slapping onto the floor.

His eyes were the worst to her, and the reason why she could not look him directly in the face. They no longer held pupils or even slits. They were simply two blood-filled balls stuck in his leaking eye sockets, but she could tell that he was still surveying everything.

To either side of her were two heavily armed Dark Elves, all four watching her every move.

She couldn't see any possible way to escape.

"Four minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Four minutes."

Santa pointed one claw at the elf farthest to her right. "You, go start this machine," he demanded in a voice that had become oddly human, like Renfield from an old Dracula movie. "I do not want her to come aboard."

The elf nodded and left, averting his eyes from the sight of his leader.

Once the elf was gone, Santa turned to her and Tara was forced to look into his hellish features or be cut again. He leered at her.

"I know what you're thinking, you filthy little whore. You're asking yourself, 'Why hasn't he killed me yet, and what could have possibly occurred to create such a horrid creature?' Well, the answer to those questions is one and the same. That...that _thing_ outside has done this to me! Do you know what it's like to be burned and electrocuted at the same time while you're halfway through a portal?"

Spittle, black slime and blood covered her face, but she said nothing. She had a feeling it was a rhetorical question.

"No, you couldn't possibly. Well believe me, you will know. When that slut sees you she'll be the last human being ever to catch sight of you and still recognize you as one of her own! She'll die knowing that there is a world of torment and pain in your future, and that is the best thing I could ever inflict upon her."

With that said, that jet began to move.

* 

Willow ran crouched below the crates, every so often firing a blast from her ray gun to match the hail of bullets that rained everywhere around her. With her limited vision she had to stay in each area twice as long as it would normally take, just to make sure she was headed in the right direction.

She took a deep breath and leapt out into a criss-cross of crates, her ray gun firing all the way. By the time she reached the other end three elves were dead and another badly wounded. Looking up over a box, she saw that the jet was still quite a distance away, and worse yet there was a deep chasm blocking her way. Going around it would mean more time spent. Time that she didn't have, especially now that the jet had begun to move towards the exit.

Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Frost, Jack's motorcycle. She'd ridden with Tara before and had a fairly good grasp of how to handle one. It was her only chance now. Unfortunately, about seven black elves were between her and the ride, scoping out the area for her. Most of the others were getting into the jeeps and snowmobiles, then riding off towards the exits.

Making the best of her situation, Willow waited until the elves were in the worst possible places and stood up, the air frying around her blaster.

* 

Baringold observed the spacious and beautiful bedroom as he crawled, hidden in the heart of Jack Frost's airplane. Luxury was one of Jack's top priorities, that much was easy to see. Almost the entire room was red, with luscious carpeting and a rather large, undoubtedly comfortable bed. It was a king-size, which black silk-satin sheets and a plush red comforter. And it was in the shape of a heart. _A player till the end,_ Bar thought. Where was Jack, anyway?

Suddenly, the plane jerked to life and he fell onto his stomach, his long sunny bangs falling into his eyes.

"Oh no, Willow!" He whispered to himself. Had she gotten on?

Getting to his feet as silently as he could with one gimp leg, Bar crossed the red "love room" to another door at the end. Pressing his ear against the metal door, the elf could barely make out voices on the other side.

"You'll n-never get away with th-this!" The voice was Tara's, he presumed. It sounded like the voice that had called out to warn Willow back in the loading dock. And the one that had screamed when she'd seen him in the ventilation shafts.

"Had to get that in, didn't you?" Another voice, it ran shivers down the small elf's spine. He didn't know who it was, and didn't want to. "Place her near the ramp, I want that witch to see me cut her!"

"Yes sir," came two twin voices simultaneously.

"Sir," another voice shouted, "She's on a motorcycle, and she's gaining on us!"

"What? Never mind, she'll kill herself trying to cross the chasm...but load the rocket launcher just in case-"

Trying to get a better listening advantage, Baringold pressed further into the door, not realizing until too late that it was partially open. He fell through, landing in a heap before two horrid excuses for legs. Looking up, he nearly screamed.

The face that looked down at him now might've been smiling, he couldn't tell. "Ah, how fortunate. I was getting awfully hungry anyway." It laughed like an infant would wail and a piece of its flesh fell off its face, landing next to Baringold. He shuddered and cringed as the demon-thing approached.

* 

Willow reared the wheel up as she approached the large chasm. Looking behind her, she shot down a Dark Elf who was running along a wharf after her. Then the bottom wheel left the earth and her breath sucked out of her lungs.

It was almost as though she was caught in slow motion, watching as lights of guns being fired blinked all around her. Particles of snow and ice flew up as bullets narrowly missed her. Even the roar of the engine slowed down and she could see the wheels turning beneath her, almost begging for solid ground. The lights on the front and end of the cycle flared as she crossed the middle of the chasm, and she could hear one of them pop in the tail end. Her eyes were wide and cold sweat covered her face. Her empty eye socket swelled and itched in the severe cold, and her broken lips were as white as the enamel on her teeth. She became completely self-aware of everything around her.

Then Frost slammed back down on the other side of the chasm, jumping a little, and she was back to driving with one hand, shooting with the other. An Uzi-obsessed elf jumped from a large crate above, landing in the snow and firing one submachine gun in each hand at her. Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated the jump and had landed directly in front of an incoming Jeep. It ended his life with a mercifully short _fwap, crunch_ and then roared into another gear as the elf began to pursue Willow.

Thinking she could easily lose him in the nearby maze of spikes that led to the tunnel (the jet simply crushed them underneath its wheels) she was surprised by two snowmobiles appearing at either side, flanking her.

She dodged the first wave of spikes jutting from the ground easily, but all three of her opponents fared the same, and were now focusing their weapons at her unprotected back. Weaving to the left, she swerved around a very large spike and tried to ignore the sprays of bullets that were hitting marks inches away from her head and zipping past her ears.

The first snowmobile and the Jeep past through unscathed, but the second snow-cruiser tried to navigate around the big spike too late, and an explosion signaled his demise. She fired a few shots at the first cruiser but they were off due to her poor sight. A machine gun from the Jeep tattered out a response, and one of the bullets ricocheted off of the wrong side of the bulletproof cover on the cycle. It nicked her in the arm and she nearly lost control from shock.

Suddenly, a loud hiss filled the area and a few yards from the three of them an ice-spike exploded in a cloud of mist. Willow turned and gaped in horror at the jet. The bunker ramp was still open and they were now deep into the tunnel, but Willow could just make out two Dark Elves loading another rocket into the launcher. To add to this, the plane was quickly gaining speed as the engines heated up. Soon she would be left in the dust.

A shocking tremor ran through Frost's rear and the wheel jerked crazily to one side, throwing Willow off balance. Looking back she saw that the elf driving the snowmobile had bucked into her. He was now speeding up to ride alongside her. If he did it now, he would crush her leg. She pressed down on the gas as far as it would go just as the Jeep opened up another volley of gunfire.

"Three minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Three minutes."

An idea occurred to her and she took the opportunity, crossing diagonally in front of the snow cruiser. The elf firing the machine gun in the Jeep simple kept on pulling the trigger, following her every move. Even as she zoomed in front of the cruiser so that it was between her and the Jeep. Bullets riddled the elf driving the small snowmobile and he slumped over the now shot, crackling controls. The vehicle veered off to the left and a few seconds later she heard a loud crash. Looking back she cried out and tried to turn the motorcycle before slamming headfirst into a spike. She turned in time, but the wasted time regaining control allowed another bullet from the Jeep to hit her, tearing through her thigh.

Another telltale hiss of air and Willow looked up, straight into the face of an incoming rocket. She screeched to the side, the entire vehicle she rode pushing forth on the right flank of its wheels. The rocket past overhead and she kicked back up, looking back at the smoking trail. The elves in the Jeep directly behind her screamed at the missile in their sight but had no time to do anything else. It obliterated the vehicle and much of the surrounding area.

Willow sighed in relief and once again trained her sights on the plane. It was no use; the vehicle was traveling much too fast now for her to catch up. But something dragged at her brain, something she should've remembered in the first place._ The jet propulsion system!_ Glancing at the back of the motorcycle, Willow saw the twin jet packs she'd seen earlier in Jack's underground lab.

She quickly looked over the small dashboard. Keyhole, with key. Gas light, fuel meter, speedometer, metal switch. There it was, the switch had to control the jets, there was nothing else that she could see. Bracing herself, Willow flicked the metal switch upwards.

* 

"And now, you disgusting tramp," grinned the monstrosity looking down on her, "Your pain can truly begin."

One of the guards suddenly cried out in surprise. "Sir, she's coming up fast!"

Santa glared at him and shot a glance outside of the bunker. She'd turned on the jets. That fool Jack just had to leave his motorcycle outside!

Baringold smiled briefly, before the pain overtook his body. Apparently the demon-Santa enjoyed his meals beaten and bruised. He now sat crouched in one of the corners, to weak to move.

"Load up another rocket, this bitch isn't boarding!" He growled.

But as the two elves who had been guarding Tara slid in another rocket, a beam of light shot past them, hitting the trigger elf in the forehead. His body crumpled to the floor.

In desperation and anger, Santa reached out and ripped an elf Uzi from one of the guard's waistbands. He would've had his own arsenal, had it not been destroyed in his escaping the portal room.

Turning to the still-lowered ramp he opened fire and laughed maniacally as his shots danced crazily around the fast approaching, one-eyed redhead. She maneuvered the vehicle she drove around the decreasing number of spikes and carefully averted the streams of fire to either side of her, coming from the jets on the aircraft. She was almost at the ramp when one of the bullets hit inside the metal covering over the bike and blew the front tire.

Tara screamed and ran forward, wrestling a gun away from one of the elven guards and turning it on him. Her fire blew the small being out of the jet, his body bouncing along the snow behind them, quickly fading into darkness.

Willow leapt off of the bike as it jerked underneath her, the cycle lurching and arcing downwards from its sharp contrast in decompression. The metal and steel of the bike _clanked_ to the stone and snow, one hand on a twisted gray knob keeping Willow on the ramp. Santa reached out one clawed foot to step on her fingers.

The one remaining guard fought a useless and short battle against Tara, firing only a few lead bullets at her before he was slammed into the wall. By now the plane was going so fast that his lifeless body began to drift towards the exit. Then float. And then he was gone, sucked out by the force of speed.

"Two minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Two minutes."

The vacuum effect caused Santa to stumble, and his gnarled foot landed precariously on the ramp next to Willow's hand instead of on top of it. The allowed the girl to put another hand on the ramp and begin to climb inside.

Tara and Baringold were now searching desperately for anything to grab onto. In his weak state, the elf wouldn't last long. Tara clawed her way over to him.

"C-can you fly this thing!?" She shouted through the wind.

He opened his mouth to respond but then simply nodded, conserving energy.

"Go, bef-fore the suction is too strong! Take c-ccare of the p-pilot!"

Baringold nodded again and started to inch his way towards the open doors. Tara turned, looking for anything that would close the ramp.

Willow, now halfway up, realized that she'd lost her gun in the fall. She had nothing to defend herself against the red-eyed creature that had once been a Santa. Eyes. His hands clawed at her shoulders and he lifted her up, into the wind. He screamed silently at her, his entire body shaking.

"Why do you have to destroy everything!" He roared, then turned and threw her bodily across the room, into the bunker. The force of air was just as strong though, and she began to shoot back out.

She grappled at anything heavy and came up with a stack of fuel barrels. Looking back she saw that the charred, black Santa was still at the opening and was starting to walk towards her, his strength still above that of the suction.

She examined the line of fuel drums. Each were strapped together in tight black cords that seemed welded to the steel of the barrels. Thinking quickly, she unhooked the first barrel and sent it flying at Kringle. It was a direct hit to his chest, but he caught it deftly in his hands.

Willow's grasp on the barrels weakened and the reached over to the metal hooks of the rocket launcher, her feet now fully up in the air. She saw Tara out of the corner of her eye, grabbing onto various things and still looking for anything that would close the ramp.

Santa suddenly through the barrel back at her. She easily moved out of the way, rolling and grabbing another part of the launcher, but she suddenly wished she hadn't. To the three occupants of the bunker, it looked as though the small fuel barrel was floating at about five miles an hour, but they knew better. The force behind the throw was huge, and the barrel was now headed straight for the rocket, which Willow had been blocking when Santa had thrown it. She would've gasped had she had any breath.

The steel of the barrel actually shredded before her eyes, impaling itself directly onto the rocket. The tank must've been at least partially empty. The strike of flint against metal would've created a spark, and from their they all would've been dust.

"Two minutes until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Two minutes."

The power and speed of the plane was now even too much for Santa, who started to inch his way towards them, black claws outstretched. Willow tried to back away but there was nowhere else to go. Pieces of Santa were now being sucked off of him. His entrails were dangling in the wind and his face was more like a stretched piece of a plastic bag. Yet his eyes remained the same. Eyes.

Willow shook her head, trying to concentrate when she felt like her brains were going to be sucked out of her ears. Santa was now a foot from her, and her grabbed the rocket launcher with one hand. With the other he caressed her cheek with his claws. At least, now it felt like a simple touch. But her face was so numb that had she not seen the streaming blood fly out into the wind she wouldn't of realized that he had cut her at all. There was no pain, which explained his persistence in trying to kill her. Right now every nerve had been burnt from his body. He most likely felt nothing, save rage. For her. Eyes. S.

Willow looked down and saw that he was holding the front of the launcher with both hands. She reached around and put him in a tight bear hug. Confused at her actions, Santa freed one hand again and began stroking her back. She knew that those wounds were going to be some of the worst. Taking the welded cord on the barrel that had been used to tie all of the other together; she wrapped it tightly around her adversary and connected it to the other side of the barrel. Santa looked at what she'd done and laughed at first, but the looked again.

She pinned him to the metal barrel. The metal barrel that was impaled on the rocket. The rocket that was loaded. A gentle electronic hum filled the room and Willow realized that Tara must've found the switch. She'd have (Eyes) to (Eyes) ac-(Eyes)-t fast.

"I don't know you." Santa whispered to her. She didn't understand how she could hear him over the wind, but there was too much going on to give attention to the supernatural. "You're a sick pervert, a sinning child of God that has broken every cardinal rule. Yet I do not know your name. You were never on my list. You don't exist."

As he spoke, she pulled herself around to the back of the rocket launcher, using every last bit of strength to keep from flying out into the open air. Her waist and back were slick with her own blood but she paid it no heed as she straddled the large device between her slim thighs.

"Who are you?" He questioned, every ounce of fight gone from him, but pure hatred evident in his voice.

"Sixty seconds until Teufel Mountain will self-destruct. Sixty seconds."

She stared into his eyeS as she wrapped her hands around the large trigger. "I'm Jewish."

His eyeS widened in recognition and she pulled on the trigger.

* 

A single, deformed creation erupted from the bunker of "The Jack Frost For World Leader Campaign Tour Jet" (as it was so called by its previous owner) and roared down the stone-white tunnel towards the end of its existence. At the bottom it would bounce slightly on it's chest and change direction, heading directly for a series of explosives that had been recently moved to sit against the mountain wall. After that, the rest is obvious.

Fire would race up the tunnel, chasing after a lone jet traveling at speeds that would be just enough to shoot out of the mountain as the flames surrounded it. The Dark Elves trying to escape the mountain would realize that they had left too late, and that's the last thing that would run through their heads.

And the Dark Lord Diablo, who had been freed from his crystal prison would now realize that without the massive portal he would be stuck here in this mountain forever. Only, he would be dead some time later, frozen to ice in his own pit of hell. His freedom would be his demise. A replacement for the ruler would be found soon. But until then, no new demons would walk the earth.

* 

Gridion stood with the rest, cheering and screaming with joy into the night. The fall of Teufel meant a new life for all of them. One without oppression or tyranny. One where they didn't have to make toys for humans all of their lives.

He stooped down to Manchester, who had been placed on a makeshift stretcher.

"We did it, Brother!" He whooped gleefully.

The wounded elf smiled back weakly. "Yes. Now we can go home."

Gridion laughed and patted his brethren's shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, man. We all are now."

* 

Willow lied down on the cold metal floor, taking in huge gasps of air as she heard the beautiful sound of the ramp locking into place. Tightly shut.

Soon an even more beautiful sound _and _sight filled her head. Tara was above her, stroking her hair and smiling lovingly down at her.

"You're hurt," she said, now moving her hand to Willow's waist.

The redhead shuddered as warmth finally began to spread through her, both from the lack of cold air rushing inside the jet and Tara's fingers on her skin. Willow smiled back lazily. "I'm not dead." She gazed up at Tara. "Where's Jack?"

A flash of anger went through Tara's eyes. "He di-didn't stay onboard."

A voice piped up cheerfully from an intercom above them. "We're out. You two all right? I see on the monitor up here that the bunker is closed."

"We're f-fine." Tara called out in reply; here eyes (Eyes) locked with Willow's. "For the most part, an-an-an...anyway."

Willow frowned as darkness began to sweep over her and she started to drift off. "Tara...that Santa, there was something wrong with him. I wish I could just put my finger on it."

Her love leaned down and kissed her lips softly, adding a gently bite. "You've j-just saved the w-world. Now sleep."

Willow did so, forgetting forever the small detail that had at one point been racking her brain. It was insignificant anyway.

* 

"My name's Baringold. I'm the leader of the Liberation Elf Army."

"N-nice to meet you. I'm Tara."

He smiled, offering her a seat beside him. "I know. I've been chasing you around this mountain for quite a while now. That was me in the ventilation shaft behind you."

Tara stared at him with wide eyes. "O-oh. Oh no, I'm so sorry. You were moving s-so fast I-"

He put up a hand reassuringly. "It's okay, really. I'm just happy that my people are free from Diablo's reign of terror."

They stayed silent for a moment, simply watching the night sky filled with stars and the peaks of mountains in the distance. "You really should have seen Teufel go up. It was the most spectacular thing I've ever witnessed. It was just...poof."

Tara shook her head and continued watching the stars. "I've seen en-enough explosions for th-the rest of my life."

After another long, peaceful moment Jack nodded his head to the back. "How is she?"

A worried look crossed over Tara's face. "She'll b-be okay. I need to find the-the right healing herbs, but she'll get b-bbetter soon. I'm just worried about...about her mind. If she'll deal with d-death okay. If one of the oth-others...if they didn't make it. Like Spike, and Mrs. Summers."

Baringold stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Soon after, Tara got up, nodded politely and left. Bar noticed that as she closed the door to the bedroom, she locked it.

Epilogue

**49-A. Ambulance Ride**

Dawn stared out of the ambulance window, lightly tracing figures of pointy-eared elves and big, round Santas on the transparent glass. The scenery outside consisted of an early-morning Sunnydale, still too dark to see anything save shadowy green trees and orange halos on the pavement cast by street lamps up above. The chill air hadn't completely left yet, and the snow was still present, causing the windows to fog up and create the drawing board for her entertainment.

In the back, Riley was lying down upon a stretcher; an I.V. hooked up to his arm and a slight glaze in his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for days, and he hoped that Buffy was able to get some rest in the other ambulance.

Dawn left the window and unbuckled her seatbelt, moving wordlessly past the driver to sit next to Riley in the back.

He glanced up at her and smiled. "You okay?" He asked in a low voice.

She nodded and smiled back before her demeanor became serious once more. "What are we going to do?" She whispered.

Riley shrugged. "I don't know. I think Buffy will want to start searching for Willow as soon as we get out of the hospital, and I doubt she'll want to stay here."

Dawn looked down at the floor. "...I know I don't."

He sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The young girl frowned. "But what about, you know..." She leaned in closer, "The Hellmouth?"

"Buffy quit the council officially, but they're still using her. They didn't have to appoint a new slayer because Buffy was taking care of everything. When they learn that she's left Sunnydale they'll send someone else."

"Hey," the driver piped up, "What are you two kids mumbling about back there?"

Neither answered the question, lost in their own thoughts. As long as they still had Buffy, Dawn and Riley felt that they could keep their lives together. But they knew that if she didn't find Willow, Buffy would never be the same. All they could do was hope that she'd found Tara and had made it out in one piece.

**49-B. Rescue Party**

The pilot sat at the control panel of the observation helicopter, a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate warming his lap as he waited for word back from his partner.

He just didn't understand it. This had to of been some sort of phenomena. A mountain which no one had ever heard of or had ever even been charted before suddenly and without reason collapsed in on itself deep in the heart of the North Pole. It didn't make sense. A mountain that (judging by the amount of destruction around the area) had been that huge should have been charted and mapped ages ago.

His radio crackled to life and beeped, startling the pilot. He jumped in his seat and some of the cocoa jostled and spilled over onto his lap. Taking the radio and rubbing his crotch emphatically, the pilot pushed down on the relay.

"What is it?" He asked in a high-pitched, pained voice.

"What's wrong with you?" His partner inquired.

"I spilled my drink on myself, what's up?"

"You're not gonna believe this." His partner seemed ecstatic about something.

"You found Jimmy Hoffa?"

"No, but I did find somebody! A survivor!"

The pilot spluttered out the chocolate he'd been drinking and burned himself again. "Dammit Hugh, what the hell are you talkin' about. There's no possible way anybody within a thousand yards of this place could've survived its going down."

"I'm bringing him up," Hugh shouted out from his radio, ignoring his friend's protests.

Greene, the pilot, sighed and shook his head. He switched off the radio. "We're not a rescue team, Hugh," he told himself. "We were just supposed to check the place out."

A few minutes later his co-pilot's face appeared in the window of the chopper and Hugh knocked hurriedly on the door. Greene opened it and watched as Hugh climbed in and unlatched the back, opening it and clearing a small area.

"C'mon in, warm yourself up!"

A young, handsome twenty-something man with wavy dark hair hopped inside, sitting in the spot they usually reserved for equipment. "Thanks for the ride, gentleman." He smiled and gave them both a thumbs-up.

Greene mockingly returned the gesture and gave his partner a dirty look. Hugh made a silent 'what?' face and turned to grin at the survivor.

"Are you all right, man?"

The dark-haired stranger nodded, rubbing his fingers over something he held in his hands.

Sighing, Greene started up the chopper and Hugh closed and latched the doors. On an impulse the wearisome pilot gave a questioning look to what Jack held in his hands. "What 'cha got there?"

The survivor grinned, revealing a dark, black stone. "This, my friend is my ticket to world domination."

The researchers looked at each other and laughed genuinely, thinking that the young man was joking. But in the back of the chopper, Jack Frost was forming a plan. One day soon he would unlock the powers of the artifact and then the world would be in his hands again. He smiled, running a thumb of the lightly revealed face of a blonde, curly-haired girl inside the stone. The fear in her eyes was captured forever, as if knowing that the stone was the key to pure darkness itself.

The chopper rose up into the air, a storm of snow surrounding it. Inside, there was only one thing on Jack's mind that was more important to him than world domination. One thing that he couldn't have. And he would get it. One day, he would find her. She'd left him for dead in that mountain, had let him fall into a pit of darkness. He was lucky that the chasm had acted as a refuge and had also been home to the stone. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and who better to serve it up and dish out then the Casanova of Ice himself...

**50-A. Sunrise**

Baringold watched the gray sky just before sunrise, piloting the jet in the elven-made cockpit. Apparently Jack had never intended to fly the thing himself.

A giggle sounded from the room behind him, and Bar had a sudden flashback to that boiler room in the main generator that had powered his village. Catching the female elf he'd admired so much getting down with a fairy from the next village over. Grinning, he shook his head and continued to monitor the flight. He was itching for a pack of Keebler's to sooth his frazzled nerves and some serious healing herbs to put on the bruises that covered his body, but for now he'd let them rest. After all, they deserved it.

* 

Tara curled up next to Willow under the warm sheets, feeling their skin run together and caress. She was careful not to touch certain places which would invoke pain and not pleasure in her love, as Santa had done quite a number on Willow before she'd blown him out of the plane. Willow didn't move her back as the long jagged rakes across it would've brought searing pain throughout her body. Yet she felt nothing but comfort and warmth as Tara's naked skin laid on her own.

Willow giggled again as Tara ran her tongue along the redhead's nipple, biting lightly and bringing on wondrous sensations. Her hand traveled along Willow's stomach, trailing in and around her belly button and waist.

"You-you aren't supposed to laugh."

Willow tried to stop the giggles that racked her but she couldn't. "I, I'm not?"

Tara smiled and shook her head, leaning in and kissing her, running her lips together with Willow's. "You're umm, you're supposed to moan or something. Like in p-porno."

Willow laughed and nodded. "Oh, okay. Mmmmm, Tara. Do it again. Yeah, just like that."

Tara shook her head. "You aren't supposed to m-mock me either. I'm th-the dominant one right now." To demonstrate this, the stooped her head over Willow's breasts so that her hair ran along them.

Willow closed her eye and shuddered, but the smile remained. "That, that tickles."

Tara looked up at her and nuzzled into her neck, placing kisses along the length of her jugular.

This time Willow moaned in earnest. "Hmm, now that feels excellent." She opened her right eye. "May I?"

Tara shook her head again. "I'm not l-letting you move until I can heal you pr-properly."

Willow stuck out her lip playfully. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

Her love rose up until they were eyes to eye, touching foreheads and noses. "I...I can make it fun." She kissed her. "I promise." She kissed Willow again, their lips parting and tongues meeting together in a warm embrace. This continued until Tara could tell that Willow was hard of breath and she removed her tongue from Willow's mouth, licking the girl's lips.

Willow gasped as Tara's hand roamed down farther from her stomach. "Oh, you're a goddess. I-I love you."

Tara grinned. "I love you too. And I th-think I know just the way to show it."

As the blonde lowered herself beneath the sheets, and Willow cried out in ecstasy, the sun rose up over the peaks of the snow-capped mountains outside. It created a dazzling sight to the eye, a brilliant washboard of soft-red and fire orange, with tints of purple and blue shading here and there. But neither girl noticed, and the world went on.

**50-B. Caribbean Shores**

Far, far away from the freezing, below-zero temperatures of the North Pole; a small, five year old girl sat along the wet, sandy shores of a tiny Caribbean Island. The sunset was just as dazzling here; with clouds lining the western horizon turning dark purple and a deep pink-red hue filling the rest of the sky.

The waves crashing against the nearby rocks and seagulls flapping and crying overhead were the most prominent sounds out at the moment. Earlier a Maruichi band had been playing an upbeat melody, but they'd drifted off with the rest of the crowd when the sunlight began to dwindle. Now only residents of the island remained, basking in the glory of a beautiful night.

A particularly large wave crashed into the girl, soaking her small bathing suit and her blonde, cropped-and-parted hair. Giggling madly, she got up and started to run up the beach towards her mother, her small feet leaving fresh imprints in the sand.

She stopped halfway though, her eyebrows narrowing down and then shooting up in surprise.

"Mommy, mommy!" She shouted, "It's Santa Claus! And he's almost naked momma, look!"

Her shades on and her face-wax setting, the mother nodded and waved at the girl nonchalantly without moving.

Dashing across the sand as fast as the girl's little feet would take her, she came up to the object of her affection. "Santa?"

The old man grinned, his wide, unclad belly protruding over some extremely large boxers. His fat legs drooped over the edge of the reclining beach stretcher his large berth was threatening to snap in two. His white beard thankfully covered the majority of his flabby chest.

"Santa?" The girl questioned him again. "Why are you wearing an eye patch?"

"Santa had an accident, sweety." He said in a normal old man's voice. "An evil witch poked it out."

The little girl's eyes went even wider. "Oh, is she dead?"

He sighed. "No honey, she got away. But don't worry, Santa tricked her, he put a spell on her and her friends, so they would think that one of his clones was him and he could escape through a magical portal just before it blew up into itsy bitsy bits."

The five-year-old just stood there. Everything he'd said had plainly gone over her head. "My mommy told me you weren't real."

"Did she now?"

"Megan! Megan, oh no!"

The girl looked back and saw that her mother was quickly rushing over, green face wax and all. She got a better look at the old man and stopped, having to force back a laugh. She looked like she was caught between major embarrassment and humor. "I'm terribly sorry," she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders, "Megan shouldn't have called you that name. She knows better."

"Oh, it's quite all right." He glanced back at the girl. "Here, I have something for you." Reaching down beneath the beach stretcher, he pulled out a remarkably clean porcelain doll.

The mother gasped, realizing the cost the doll must be worth. "We couldn't possibly-"

"Please, I insist."

"But we're Jewish."

He flinched at this, but neither woman nor girl noticed it. "And surely you know I am not Santa Claus. This is merely a gift."

The mother hesitated a moment longer before nodding, and the girl rushed up, hugging him and taking the doll. She even kissed his pudgy cheek. Oh, the wonders of an appearance enchantment. To everything on the outside world, he seemed like every other human...if fat and down one eye, but no spell was perfect.

"Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? It's just me and my daughter here and it gets lonely sometimes. We'd love to have you over..." The mother requested. She seemed as though she would actually like some company, and it wasn't just a courtesy invite.

He smiled widely, showing off some faux pearly whites. "I'd love to."

"Good, we live at-"

"I know," he interrupted, "where you live." On her worried glance he chuckled, his belly vibrating. "I've seen you and your daughter before, of course."

She smiled wanly and nodded, turning to get back to her spot in the rapidly fading sunset. The young girl remained a moment longer, smiling at him. He winked back. "I'll see you tonight, Meggy. And remember, my thousand eyes are watching."

She giggled and turned, running back to her mother. Santa laid down on his stretcher once more and took a deep breath of salty-sweet Caribbean air. Tonight he'd be having quite the Kosher meal, if the two women tasted as good as they looked. Laughing, he plotted out the places he'd visit after this.

The score between himself and the horrid Jew/lesbian/witch had been settled, he felt. Perhaps he was simply frightened of her, but when weighing his choices, chasing a worthy adversary around the world or enjoying his retirement for the rest of his days seemed like an easy decision.

He licked his lips with a fat, bloated tongue. Retirement was golden.   
  
  


The End   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_______________________________________________   
The Ugly: Author's Afterward

Heya! You made it to the end (or you skipped profusely), congratulations! This is just a small note to tell you a few things about the story. First off, when I started this mammoth thing back in late November of 2000 it was only supposed to be about thirty kilobytes long, believe it or not. It wasn't supposed to be almost six hundred and thirty. Originally I had planned for just about everybody to die. The sword fight between Willow and Jeneva in the _Steak and Ale_ was supposed to have been her and a possessed Riley, then a possessed Giles. Instead the whole body snatching half-elf half-fairy creature popped into my mind. So of course I had to give her a crazy brother, and that explained why Riley had seen Joyce when she was already dead back in the Summer's house.

But getting around to the essentials, the comment I make in the beginning of each chapter that fans of Willow and Tara will like this story was supposed to be somewhat sarcastic, as I had planned on killing her(Tara) off at the end. I had this big showdown in hell (which was beneath the restaurant, ala' portals) where Diablo was going to use Tara and Giles as sacrifices to enter into their reality. It was all very dark and Buffy originally was to be thrown up half-digested and extremely dead in the end. Actually Willow would cut Santa's stomach open and the blonde would've just slid out amidst other essential vitamins and minerals.

Icky.

But things change, and I seem to be a sucker for the happy endings. Santa was supposed to die on that plane to the very end, but as I wrote the epilogue I felt really dirty about killing him like that, and I wondered how I was going to explain the fact that most of you guys will still get presents every year after this. So I went back and made the whole faux Santa sub-plot thing. I gave him a Hannibal Lecter-type ending, which I really enjoyed writing. As my friend Marth Stewart would say, it was a rich cornucopia of Winter bedazzlement.

Characters have a way of begging me to survive. I get tracked by the bastards all of the time. I knew Baringold was going to live through the thing from the moment I invented him, but Jack was supposed to die in that pit. In an early version the Santas all got together before the portal chapter and ate him. I thought it would be a mix of Frankenstien meets Day of the Dead. Very 'necro-ironic', if I do say so myself.

Riley's living came completely from the fans. I had no intentions of letting him live, but so many people wrote telling me they liked him that he took every advantage to use this on me. "See, see Donald? They like me, yeah, they really really like me! You can't kill me now, you daft bastard! Hahahaha..." He'd go on for a while and then throw up, curl next to me on the couch and fall asleep in a pile of his own cow-hormones. Needless to say, I decided to let him live, even after the forces of darkness inhabited his body.

Now would probably be a good time to make the apology. Yeah, I think so. I'm extremely, on bended knee sorry for this taking so long to get out. After a while it was like pulling a train with my hair in braids (and I have rough hair folks, it wasn't pretty) just to get a damn sentence out. I'm proud of the story as a whole, and there are many moments that I damn-well love. But the Portal chapter scars me still. I don't know, I just don't like it. It seems too rushed and hackneyed, with too much dialogue and not enough action. I don't think I was able to reach that peak of excitement I had with Riley in the basement of the Summer's House until the last action sequence of the story. But I tell you, I'm not going to mess with it. I'll be releasing a hyped up and revised version soon, wherein I actually spell the word Menorah correctly (gasp!). But I won't touch the portal scene. It's like sticking a finger into a scab, getting oozing pus and blood on my skin and underneath my fingernail and never really making it better, but instead infecting it further cause, folks, I don't wash my hands when I write.

Maybe that's my problem.

As to the question of what's next for me; well, I'm leaving the Buffy section of FF. Net for a while. I've been promising a friend for months now that I'd write him a Roswell story and that's just what I'm gonna do. Actually, I'm gonna write a small (yeah, right) Roswell trilogy having to do with Liz and some very weird, very erotic (I hope) and very scary (I hope more) dreams. It's gonna be my first NC-17 and I tell you, I'm downright ecstatic about the whole project. I just have to make sure my mother doesn't read it. And hey, I'll be sixteen in March, so it will _almost _be legal! Yah!

When I return to you guys I'll have plenty of stories to write and put up. _9/10_ (horror, featuring everybody); _Five by Eighteen_ (action/adventure, feat. everybody); _A Dinner at the Rosenberg's_ (Romantic Comedy, Willow/Spike) and two others that are in pre-production (in other words, I have to flesh them out a bit more first). One is entitled _The Porcelain Factor_ which is a port of a Text Adventure I'm creating. In it, Xander picks up a box containing killer porcelain dolls and is framed for the murders they commit. It's a world-spanning espionage/horror yarn. The other is _Cheese 2: The Power of Destiny_. This is basically where I wrap up every story I started in the first. I know, I wasn't planning on writing a sequel. But hey...it's all good.   


Donald P. Pike February 11, 2001   
New York, New York (I wish)

_____________________________________________________________________________

...Well, that's it peoples. It's almost creepy, I'm listening to "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba. It's a song about breaking up, and I feel that this is what we're doing now. "Breaking up is never easy I know, but I had to go, Knowing me, knowing you, it's the best I can do." For any of you that actually read all of this, I thank you profusely. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It means a lot to me. I hope you review and hope even more that you enjoyed it. As I stated previously, I'm gonna take a small break from Buffy to write some Roswell fanfiction (wacky porn, really) and I'll miss you guys in the Buffy section. Until I return, I bid you all a good day. And remember, unless you're Jewish......Santa's watching......... MUHAHAHAHAAAAAAHHHHhhhhh cough-cough> ughh, I need some Halls....

Ain't that sweet?

Donald Pike (Lyle)

No, but this is.   
"I am, you know." "What?" "Yours..."


End file.
